Fictober 2018
by Ebhenah
Summary: Collection of stories written and submitted for Fictober 2018 on tumblr. Some original works, some Voltron fanfiction. Most rated teen, but some mature, information regarding story content will be at the top of each chapter.
1. Chapter 1- Tumble Day 1

**Tumble (original work)**

 **(Rated teen for language, mentions of drug and alcohol use, and LGBT2SQIA+ themes)**

 **Prompt: "Can you feel this?"**

"Babs? Babe?" my voice echoes strangely, and I laugh. Above us, the party continues, the sky and trees lit up by bonfires and car headlights, music provided by everyone tuning to the same radio station and cranking the volume. It's shit for the environment, and wastes gas, but no one really gives a flying fuck as long as we are having fun.

"Owwww," I hear from behind me. "What the fuck?"

"We fell," I giggle, "ass over tea kettle- all the way down to the beach."

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiit," she croons, "that's a long fall… Are we dead?"

"God, you are high, clearly we are not dead," I gesture to the two of us, sprawled in sandy dunes among litter and tufts of long grass and dried out old seaweed.

"Okay, but HOW are we not dead?" She points up to the party, the flickers of light and shadows making it seem like some kind of hedonistic dark mass and not just a few dozen drunk and stoned teenagers killing time on a summer night.

"Drunken luck?" I posit, crawling around awkwardly in an attempt to regain my feet.

"Works for you, but I haven't had a drop," she bitches.

"Oh please, you are high as balls- don't pretend that doesn't count for 'drunken luck'." It's an old argument, one we've had dozens of times. We've been friends for years, and we both started to run a little wild once we hit our teens. I don't mind running wild with her. She makes it an adventure. She makes me not care that there's no destination. She makes me forget that mostly, we are running AWAY from shit we don't want to deal with.

Most people don't get why we are friends. They don't see past the party girls- the brunette with the short spiky hair and the smart mouth and the shockingly high alcohol tolerance, and the pretty blonde with the bad attitude and skimpy clothes and the ever present stash of pills and things you can smoke.

Most people see us bicker and spat and shake their heads in confusion. They don't see the way we slip out of our shoes and walk home together- heads buzzing with intoxicants, ears ringing from too loud music, worries muted by careful application of happy-making chemicals- our heads tipped back, staring at the stars and the clouds and the moon and spinning tales of how we will escape this life together someday. We can almost believe that, too… when we are alone in the night walking back from a party we probably should never have been at in the first place.

Most people see us as broken- and I guess we are- but we are broken in beautiful, poetic ways that seem tragic and romantic and brave and strong. We charge into our issues and wreak havoc. Mischief and mayhem- we trade nicknames back and forth based on our moods. We balance each other out. We know each other on a soul deep level.

We've done this before.

This whole 'grow up together and venture into the world' thing.

We'll do it again.

We never make it out of it alive- but we sure as fuck live the hell out of it when we can.

"Fuck that party," she announces suddenly. "I'm not climbing up that shit just to get pawed at by the same losers that paw at me every weekend." She's the pretty one. I rarely have that problem. I'm more likely to get into some kind of fight and end up with frozen peas on my face and laughing about it.

"I guess we're taking a walk along the beach," I laugh and between us we manage to help each other to standing.

"Which way's the road?" she asks me and I shrug. "Follow the moon, it is then," she grabs my hand.

Her laughter tumbles through my soul, each sound lighting up some ancient memory.

We've done this before.

This whole 'falling in love' thing.

We'll do it again.

I turn to her and smile. Mischief.

She grins, her eyes chaotic and full of life. Mayhem.

"Can you feel this?" she asks, tracing her thumb over the crescent moon tattoo on my wrist.

"Of course," I laugh, "can you feel this?" I place her hand over my heart.

She smiles. "I feel it all. I feel everything."

"Race you to the moon?" I challenge, and the words echo back through lifetimes of adventures.

"Race you to the grave," she answers, her words are bold and familiar and I feel them resonate in my core.

We've done this before.

We'll do it again.

Together.

Always.

Mischief and Mayhem.


	2. Chapter 2- Creative Day 2

**Creative**

 **Fictober18 Prompt 2: "People like you have no imagination."**

 **Rating: E for explicit NSFW NC-17**

 **Original characters (LGBTQI2SA+ and Kink themes)**

Her skin tasted like that honey dust they sold at those 'naughty' parties for bored housewives. Sweet with hints of some kind of fruit or berry and the underlying ambrosia of the sheen of sweat that arousal and frustration brought. Mia smiled against the curve of her neck. "You don't sound quite as confident anymore Jess," she whispered.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she breathed, her voice wavering breathlessly.

"I can stop," Mia offered, "if you don't like what I'm doing… or if you maybe like it a little too much."

Jess shook her head, straightening her spine, eyes glinting with stubborn determination, and something… else. "No, I'm fine," she said, a little more solidly.

"Alright," Mia purred, "but remember, I'll stop as soon as you ask me to. No questions asked. No hard feelings."

"I remember."

Jess had been Mia's only roommate for about 3 months, and they'd been sharing the apartment for almost as long before that, but they didn't actually know each other all that well . They hadn't been friends prior to Jess moving in with her then boyfriend, Mia's friend, Kyle. They had conflicting schedules and so could easily go days without seeing each other, but they got along and they were both pretty low maintenance housemates.

She'd been warned by Kyle about the… odd noises she might hear coming from Mia's room when she was entertaining guests, but she'd never really broached the subject beyond that. Then they'd broken up and Kyle was the one to move out, leaving the girls without a buffer. Mia had seen curiosity growing in Jess's eyes with every dewy-eyed, blissed out woman that had stumbled out of Mia's room for a morning coffee, or to rush home before work. She'd known the confrontation was coming, she could see the questions that threatened to spill from Jess's lips whenever they spent more than a few hours in each other's company.

Finally, it had come to a head in a way that Mia would never have predicted. She'd gotten home from work to discover that Jess had signed for a package for her. A package that had a customs declaration that clearly read 'vampire mitt' right below the address label. Mia had thought for sure that the pretty, conservative, and very mainstream girl would be outraged… but she was more irritated. It annoyed her that she couldn't understand the appeal.

"What on earth could someone even want with a mitt of rabbit fur with metal barbs in it?" she'd said at one point, frustrated with the conversation, "I can't think of a single thing about that that would be appealing!"

Mia had smiled, and shaken her head, "well, that's just because people like you have no imagination. You aren't used to getting creative when it comes to sex. You think doggy style is so scandalous."

"That's not true- I am very adventurous," she'd insisted… and somehow that had led them to a detailed discussion of the nitty gritty of all the things Jess was willing to 'try out'… which is how they ended up in this particular scenario.

Jess was naked, her pretty little ankles and wrists secured to the sturdy frame of Mia's bed with leather cuffs, and she'd set her mind, somewhere along the way, to prove that 'all that kink stuff' was 'boring' and 'unimpressive'. For the last hour, Mia had been slowly building up the sensory play with the brand new vampire mitt.

Jess shivered and bit her lip as the soft fur skimmed over her flesh. She was determined to act unaffected, despite the darling little flush that had started to spread across her chest and face. Mia kept checking in anyway- she refused to be a part of something traumatizing because someone was more stubborn than self-aware.

The fur danced over a ticklish spot and Jess jumped, pulling at the leather and metal holding her in place. Mia smiled. "You good?"

"Fine," Jess answered, jutting her chin out.

Mia increased the pressure. The tiny little sharp spikes nestled within the fur scratched over the skin in contrast to the whisper of rabbit fur, and Mia let it trail perilously close to one of those pert, dusky nipples. Jess rolled her hips and her lips parted on a gasp. "Oh!"

"Mmhmm," Mia replied, smiling smugly, "starting to see the appeal?"

"It's… relaxing," Jess countered, eyes flashing with defiance.

"Relaxing," she smirked, "right" dipping her head down to capture that tempting nipple between her lips, biting down just enough to make her gasp. The mitt continued it's journey over her body without interruption.

The sharp/soft contrast intensified as Mia took literal hours to work Jess into a writhing, whimpering frenzy with nothing but the little spiked fur mitten, her words, and the very rare application of her hot, wet mouth somewhere unexpected. Eventually, defiance crumbled under the weight of WANTING and any thought of challenge evaporated at the promise of satiation.

After crying defeat, Jess begged Mia to finish what she started, which she did happily, pushing her roommate to new heights, loving the sound of her cries and moans and sobs of pleasure bouncing off the walls.

By morning, Jess was so wrung out she was babbling nonsense and quaking with aftershocks that made her eyes roll back in her head and stole her breath. Mia bundled her up and set her in a warm bath, washing her tenderly and gingerly brushing out all the knots and mattes she'd made in her hair with her thrashing, then she fed her and rubbed soothing lotion into the red, scratched up skin.

"See?" Jess whispered sleepily, curling into Mia's side, "told'ya I was adventurous."

"So you are- but I am CREATIVE," Mia replied, kissing her sweetly.


	3. Chapter 3- Inevitable Day 3 (Voltron)

**Inevitable**

 **Fictober18 Day 3**

 **Prompt 3: "How can I trust you?"**

 **Voltron fanfiction. Post season 07. Klance. Keith/Lance**

 **Rated T for Language**

"You get close, then you get scared, and then you BAIL, Keith," Lance snapped, rounding on him, "it's who you are. So, what am I supposed to think now?"

Keith's mouth opened, but no sound came out. What was he even supposed to say to that? It was true. It was easier to leave than to be left behind.

Lance shook his head. He stomped around the room. He pushed his hands through his hair so many times it was all sticking up at weird angles. It was like he'd been hooked up to some kind of power source and all that energy had nowhere to go. "This isn't fair," he snapped, "you know that, right? You're timing is SHIT."

"I know," Keith managed to say. "I know it is."

"How long?" Lance demanded.

"What?" he blinked, that was so not the question he was expecting.

"How. Long," he repeated, anger flashing in his blue eyes. "How long have you been sitting on this?"

"Umm… how long for me, or how long for you? Because there's a diffe-"

"Are you KIDDING ME?" he snarled, "just answer the goddamn question Keith- you were the one who started this conversation in the first place!"

"Fine… I guess… since Nyma and Rolo stole the Blue Lion," he sighed, "that's the first time it, like, clicked."

Lance froze. He went from frenetic, agitated constant motion to stock still in less than a heartbeat. His eyes bored into Keith with such intensity he could FEEL the rage there impaling him, inch by inch.

"But… it probably started before that… and I kind of tried to convince myself it wasn't true for longer."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Oh my God Keith… Why did you try to convince yourself it wasn't true?"

"Oh… I didn't want it to be true. It hurt."

"It hurt," he repeated, shaking his head, "it hurt, he says. So, MONTHS before we even knew the Blades of Marmora existed, you knew?"

"Yeah," he crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the floor.

"Is that… Is that why you bailed on the team?" Lance hissed, "oh my God, it IS isn't it? Rather than fucking talk to me, you abandoned all of us."

"I didn't abandon anyone," he argued, "there were good reasons for me to go with the Blades… and Voltron had Shiro…"

You say you loved me," Lance breathed, "love me… and you left anyway. You just walked away. Like I was NOTHING."

"No! It wasn't like that," Keith insisted.

"Wasn't it?" Lance took a deep breath, "I don't understand how you manage to KEEP doing this shit to me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You really have your head stuck so far up your own ass you are blind to everything, don't you?" He shook his head, "what was the point of telling me this? Now? What did you think was going to happen?"

"I…" he shrugged, "don't know, really… I just… I couldn't NOT say it any longer."

"Did you think I'd be happy? Overjoyed? Flattered? What?"

"I have no idea what I thought… I didn't think you'd be furious, though."

"Well, that's what you got. I'm furious," he threw his arms wide. "My life is pretty good right now… but here comes Keith fucking Kogane… ready to blast everything apart AGAIN. I'm so sick of rebuilding my life around whether or not you are in it, Keith!"

"What does that even mean?" Keith was clearly confused, visibly perplexed.

"You…" he snarled, shaking his head, "just… YOU… you're like some kind of Lance McClain-specific booby trap. You don't even DO anything and you fuck my life up. I was a really happy kid. Did you know that? When I got to the Garrison, I was sickeningly happy. Good student, big, happy family, best score on that testing sim in my whole school. I was going to go the Garrison like my big sister. I was going to find a gorgeous girl to fall in love with, be a fighter pilot, have lots of friends, get married, have kids and explore the solar system… and then.. YOU."

"How the hell did I stop any of that from happening?" Keith demanded.

"Because my happy, straight little ass took ONE goddamn look at you and your stupid mullet and fell head over heels in love with you, the hot shot who just. Kept. Beating. My. Scores. and never even knew I was alive, and that turned my whole life upside down." He made a noise that was very close to a growl, "I spent my whole first year in crisis, trying to make sense of what I was feeling… and when I eventually came to terms with that, suddenly you were GONE, and I had to figure it all out again, so my whole second year was me scrambling and just… missing someone who literally had no idea I even existed. I got that under control and bam-look who is back in my life- no recollection of me, no clue who I am, and now I'm stuck in space fighting a goddamn war, and YOU are one of a literal HALF DOZEN people I interact with on a regular basis… and once again, my never-quite-good-enough ass is stuck in your fucking orbit and you STILL don't see me! You look right through me. For months- I am nothing. I'm the dumb one. I'm the screw up. The dead weight. The seventh wheel… and then- somehow, you start to see me and I think, maybe… jusssst maybe… and then you are gone. Gone." His hand scrubbed at his face and came away wet. Hot, angry tears streaked down his face, but they didn't slow him down. This needed to be said. It had been eating away at him for too long to go unvoiced. "So, I adjust. Again. And you come back… and it just keeps fucking happening…. and I know. I KNOW it's stupid and hopeless… and so I keep just… trying to change my focus. Concentrate on the job. Pursue anyone who catches my eye. Train. Hang out with the others. ANYTHING. Just… try to push the rubble that is my life into something that looks kind of like it might work. YEARS! Years I have been trying to figure out how to function around this massive, humiliating unrequited bullshit… and now you do THIS! So, yeah. Furious… because it could have been so different. It could have been AMAZING. But now- the one thing I know better than anything else in this entire universe is that Keith Kogane WILL destroy me, one way or another. So, here you are, saying exactly what I have literally dreamed of you saying, and all I can think is 'how can I trust you?' How can I trust you not to bail again? How can I trust you not to set off ANOTHER bomb in my life? And no matter how desperately I wish it was different, I know the answer is… I can't. I know I can't. You know I can't."

"Lance-" he looked stricken. Heartbroken. Ashamed.

"No! YOU did this! You don't get to be all sad-puppy now. You LEFT."

"I came back," he said weakly.

"To stop Lotor," Lance almost laughed, it was just too sadistically perfect. This was exactly the kind of thing just being around Keith did to his life. "Not good enough."

"No- I was gone two years," he insisted, "and I promised myself I would tell you. I would make things right with you. I would put myself out there. The whole thing with Lotor… that's totally separate… and it was important and time sensitive."

"The game show. Stranded, floating in space. Days and days of travelling in the Lions. How many times were we staring down death and you STILL never spoke up? You said nothing. You don't get a pass for that."

"I was scared," he said, his voice small. "I was terrified and I didn't know how to get past that… and I am really sorry. For all of it."

"Oh wow, Keith," sarcasm dripped from his words, "thank-you for your magical apology. I feel heaps better now."

"You're in love with me?" it was barely more than a whisper.

Lance rolled his eyes, "not like it's some kind of secret. It's humiliatingly obvious, because I am a complete disaster and I just keep handing you knives to gut me with."

"You're focusing on the wrong things, Lance. You're in love with me. I'm in love with you. We're in love. That matters."

"But it doesn't, though… because I might be the dumb one, but even I know not to risk this. I can't trust you."

"You can," he pleaded, "Lance… please… give me a chance to prove that you can trust me."

His expression didn't change, but his eyes shifted, meeting Keith's and it was enough to give Keith hope.

"No more Blades. No more running. No more closing myself off," Keith promised. "I don't expect anything. Just… please… be my friend, let me show you that I am here to stay… and if I do. If I prove that. If you trust me… THEN we will talk about all this. I love you. I'm in love with you. That didn't change in all the time I spent with the Blades. It didn't change in two years of being away from you, stranded on a space whale. It isn't going to change. I love you. I love you more than anything."

"God, I am such a fucking idiot," Lance muttered, striding towards Keith, "and a goddamn masochist." He clasped Keith's face in his hands and pulled him down into a kiss. He'd probably regret this, but not as much as he'd regret NOT doing it.


	4. Chapter 4- Bloodbath Day 4

**Bloodbath**

 **Posted by: ebhenah on 4 October 2018**

 **Fictober18 Day 4 "Will that be all?"**

 **Original characters**

 **Rated: T- some violence, some language, mentions/references same sex relationship, war, bigotry, vengeance**

Her skin felt too tight, her muscles twitching and jumping with useless rage. She should be sleeping, resting in preparation for the battle that lay ahead. All reports indicated that tomorrow would be the day. Officially, this was still a rescue mission. She clung to the hope that this was a rescue mission as she stared at the view screen that functioned as 'windows' on a star craft. Turns out, humans don't react well to not being able to see what is on the other side of a wall for months at a time. So, she stared at the view screen that broadcast a visual representation of the sensor feeds from this side of the ship and PRETENDED it was a window. Just like she pretended that tomorrow she'd be facing the enemy and bringing her wife home.

Eventually, she gave up on sleep and hauled on her gear. If she was awake, so was her brother. Not because of any stupid mystical shit- people really loved to manufacture weird magical connections between twins- but because their brains worked the same way. Neither of them could sleep the night before a big event. Jail breaking a high security prisoner of war camp counted as a 'big event' by anyone's definition.

The captain didn't seem surprised to see her in his doorway. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked. He was a good guy, the human that was in charge of this ship. If he'd had any complaints about adding two half-human mercs to his team at the last minute, he'd never let that show in how he treated either of them, and she knew he'd cracked down on a few crew members who'd been more vocal about their displeasure.

"Too amped up," she answered, "I need to run through the security specs again and I don't have the clearance to pull it up on my own.

"Oh, yeah sure," he grabbed a tablet and accessed the files, handing it over to her. She took a few minutes to skim the blue prints of the facility and then took a more thorough look at the breakdown of the security systems, protocols, staffing, and armaments.

"We're still confident in the intel?" she asked. She was always leery of intel, all too often it was incomplete, or out of date.

"We are," he answered easily.

"Good. Just- tell your men to be careful of decoy checkpoints. We've encountered a few facilities that use them in addition to proximity alarms. The staff know which ones to use and which to avoid. Always scan a checkpoint for explosives before interfacing with it." She held out the tablet.

"We've gone over that, but I will make a point to include it in the last briefing." He took it from her hand, "will that be all?"

"Can you give me after hours clearance to the training facilities?" she stood, "if I'm going to be awake anyway, I want to be doing something productive."

"Consider it done, I'm adding you to the scan access log now." She nodded and he gave her a wan smile, "we have a good track record with these missions. If anyone can get her out of there, it will be us."

"Appreciate that, Captain," she replied, leaving him to his work.

She slammed her hand into the buzzer at her brother's door, and within seconds, it slid open. He was already dressed, his kit bag slung over his shoulder. "We sparring or fighting?' he asked easily as he stepped into the hall.

"We're both healers, and pulling hits is a dangerous habit to get into," she answered.

He grinned, "that's what I was hoping for."

The twins didn't really resemble each other all that much, which wasn't uncommon in siblings with parents of different species. They had different coloring- her skin was a soft pink that almost looked human, his a dusty purple. Her hair black, cut into a mohawk and braided down tight to her head, his a soft blond that was shorn close to his scalp. They both had slightly pointed ears, but hers stretched up, close to her skull and his jutted outward making him look aggressive. She was solidly built, but thin, compact; he was just… massive- tall, broad, heavily muscled. So, they weren't really people you would glance at and think 'twins', even though they were. But that smile? The predatory, self-assured, dangerous smirk he flashed her? It was EXACTLY the same as hers.

The gym was deserted at this hour and they quickly pulled on the gear they'd be wearing on the mission, wanting to be completely comfortable with the way it fit, moved and weighed their limbs down.

"Ready?" He asked as she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. She nodded and they started circling each other. She felt her magic stir, rippling under her skin, and saw the changes that indicated her brother was experiencing the same thing. Her vision changed, colors bleeding out, shadows starker. A tiny, malicious little giggle bubbled through her in response to the call of her power. She tapped her two batons against her legs and they powered up with a whine.

Her brother gave a soft huff- rising to the challenge and adjusting his grip on his prowled around the floor in slow rounds, each gauging the other for an opening. They'd been facing off against each other like this for decades. Mixed race children born during a war had no shortage of opportunities to fight, and they were both more aggressive than human kids, so training had started early and had been very thorough.

She let her shoulder drop. Just a fraction of an inch. But she knew he saw it and she knew he'd take it as a a falter in her stance. Moving faster and smoother than a guy his size should be able to he charged at her. He led with the big Antorian sickle knife he favored, but she knew him. That was too obvious. She ducked, rolling away just as a small, barbed throwing blade sank into the floor.

Her momentum carried her into the perfect position to swing her batons into the back of his knees and she smiled as she felt it connect. He'd been expecting it though, using the blow to send him into a spinning heel strike. It connected with her collarbone and she heard the bone snap as a star of pain exploded from the blow. Her magic surged, deadening the pain and starting to knit the bones together.

"Leechsticks?" he asked, referring to one of her favorite baton tricks, "really? You realize I'm going to be fighting by your side in a real conflict in a few hours, right?"

"Looks like you need to be better about dodging," she countered, He gave her a small nod and ran at her again.

She parried an actual strike from that blade and the razor-sharp curve of it made short work of deflecting her baton into a very awkward angle, leaving her chest open to the foot stomp he directed at her sternum. To avoid it she had to bend back and keep her balance, so she just let the movement carry into a backflip that gave her a bit of distance. Robbed of his target, his leg overextended and left him open and unbalanced.

She slammed the butts of her batons together and they fused and expanded into a solid, slightly flexible staff as she took the few seconds he'd need to recover to burst into a sprint toward the wall, building up enough momentum to run a few steps up the wall and launch herself. The staff hit the floor with a dull thud and she whipped around it, kicking her brother squarely in the back.

She heard the grunt that told her she'd winded him, and saw the blue energy of his magic skitter over his skin, speeding up his recovery. Before he could turn to face her again, she was striking him across the back with her staff, and for several inches on either side of the impact all that pretty blue energy just blinked out, coursing through the staff to her hands.

"That's new," he laughed, rolling away from her and launching several darts in her direction.

"Shit!," she hissed as three of them dug into her torso. "So are those." Sickly cold radiated out from the darts, even as she knocked them free of her flesh. Drugged. Awesome. Her magic was less than stellar against poisons, toxins, or drugs.

"Fast acting, but very temporary," he promised, "out of your system in a hour."

That was good to know- but the harder she worked, the faster her pulse, and the faster whatever it was he'd hit her with would spread. Already she could feel numbness starting in her belly. She had to switch tactics.

She spun her staff, moving in to strike him three times in quick succession- knee, hip, shoulder. Each contact zapped a bit of his strength, but her brother was a big guy, in prime condition, and it would take a lot more than a few strikes to take him down, even with the leeching attacks. That numbness was already wrapping around to her back and snaking down her legs. She'd lost this fight. They both knew it.

But that didn't mean she was giving up. She surged forward, using her staff like a pole vault and clearing him. A quick twist of her wrists mid-air converted the staff into two batons once again, purple energy crackling over the dull metal surface. Instead of coming in for a hit, like he expected, she wrapped herself around him, legs coiling around his waist as she slipped both batons around her neck , holding them in place with her elbows as her hands laced around the back of his skull and she squeezed.

His knees hit the floor at almost the exact instant that her arms and legs went completely dead. The batons clattered to the floor and she heard his raspy panting as his body fought desperately to pull as much oxygen into itself as possible.

"You…. good?" he panted, still not quite recovered from the choking.

"Dunno," she panted back, "can't… feel… anything… below… my face."

He scooted over to her and rested his hand on the collarbone he'd snapped. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his blue energy pulse. "You're good," he told her. She smiled weakly, worry starting to crowd into her mind now that the build-up of nerves and aggression had been given an outlet.

He saw the change in her face. "We'll get her," he pledged, "one way or another, she's coming home with us… and you and I are going to kill every last fucker that dared to hurt her."

"Bloodbath?" she asked, knowing that her face wasn't even remotely human at the moment, her emotions pushing her magic to the point that her fangs were longer, pupils slitted, scelera glowing, and her tongue forked. She knew, because she saw those same changes in her brother's face.

"Bloodbath," he answered. "We'll make'em pay."


	5. Chapter 5- Scarcity Day 5 (Voltron)

**Scarcity (VLD Fanfic)**

 **#Fictober18 Day 5**

 **Prompt: "Take what you need."**

 **Voltron Fanfiction. S07 spoilers. Angst.**

 **Keith pov, Garrison Days, Adam/Shiro split**

 **Rating: T- some language, discussion of same sex relationship, mentions of foster care, death, illness, broken homes.**

Break-ups SUCKED, Keith was discovering. Even when you weren't part of the couple that split. Even when the break-up was 'civil' and 'mature' and 'mutual'.

At first, he thought the end of the fighting was a good thing. He didn't know then that it would be replaced by this... thick silence that crowded everything else out. He didn't know then that it would mean that the animated, expressive faces he'd learned to love and trust would become cold and brittle- even with him, even though he had NOTHING to do with any of this. He didn't know then that it meant day to day life would consist of one leaving the room as soon as the other entered, blankets and pillows stacked at the edge of the couch every morning and every night, waiting to be put to use again. He didn't know then that one person just LOOKING at the other formed some kind of wall between them until the whole place felt like it was criss-crossed with trip wires. One wrong word, one wrong step likely to set off an explosion of... pain that ripped everyone apart again.

Like, the dishes. That one was his fault, which somehow made it worse. Adam had asked him to wash up after lunch, and he'd been planning to. But Shiro didn't eat when they ate, so he thought he'd just wait until he had finished and do all the dishes at once... and then he'd just forgotten about it until he'd heard the 'we aren't yelling' from his room. He still wasn't sure how a few dishes in the sink led to anger and hurt accusations of selfishness and lack of support and digs about parents and closets and responsibilities. But it had... and they'd gone silent when he came into the room and filled the sink, hoping to diffuse some of the tension. They'd stayed pretty much silent, just staring at each other with eyes that seemed to hold the weight of the world. Adam had thanked him. Shiro had asked about class. Neither had pursued a conversation after his curt responses.

It didn't feel like THEM anymore. It didn't feel like home anymore. It felt like just another shitty foster home surrounded by strangers who tolerated his presence out of obligation. At least they weren't trying to make him pick sides. He'd heard that happened a lot. But then, why would they? Shiro had been the one to reach out to him. He'd been the one to start the process of becoming a foster parent. He'd been the one to get him into the Garrison Academy. The one to vouch for him. To show up and fight for him whenever things fell apart. To remind him that there was still fun to be had, adventures to take, things to look forward to beyond survival. It seemed pretty obvious that they expected him to side with Shiro, always.

But, Adam had been the one to download a ton of Korean music when he'd mentioned that he couldn't really remember much except baby-talk, so he could still hear the language of his early years and maybe not lose any more of it than he already had. Adam had been the one to teach him how to cook the few things he could make. Adam had been the one to book his dentist appointments, and spend an hour every evening helping him get his reading levels up to par when he struggled with the Garrison curriculum. He'd been the one make them do all those STUPID 'family outings'- karaoke nights, trips to the little pottery place to paint plates and shit, art classes, apple picking, pumpkin carving, Farmer's Market shopping, trips to the amusement park, to the pool, to the movies. He'd been the one sit with him and explain everything that was happening that first time Shiro had ended up in the hospital. He'd been the one who drove Keith out to his father's grave, at first when Keith asked, but then, later, he'd learned how to tell when Keith needed that... and he'd been the one to start donating to charities supporting First Responders in his father's name.

Shiro had forged the path, but Adam was the one that had made it feel safe to walk it... and now it was like that path was filled with unexpected pot holes and loose ground and low-hanging thorny branches. He didn't feel safe here anymore. The people he thought he knew so well were gone, replaced by brittle, hurting ghosts of a family that he could barely recognize, and he could feel it coming back. He could feel the rage and hurt and distrust clawing its way back into his heart- just when he'd started to think it might be gone for good.

It had taken him months to be willing to ask for seconds when they all ate dinner together. Terrified that if he wanted too much, asked for too much, needed too much they'd decide he needed more than they were willing to spare. That he was too much of a burden. Too much work. He'd been so scared to accept what they offered. Food. Clothes. Shelter. Friendship. Trust. Family. LOVE. But they hadn't given up on him. They'd stuck around- even when he was trying his hardest to push them away before they could abandon him. They'd worn him down with their dorky jokes, and their'get a room' flirting, and cheesy pet names, and hair musses, and board game nights, and random movie quotes, and giggling stolen kisses when they thought he wasn't paying attention.

'This is our life,' they'd shown him, day after day after day, 'it's good. It's safe. It's warm, and happy, and we want you in it.' And somehow, somewhere along the way, he'd started to believe them, to trust them, to COUNT ON THEM.

And it had been GOOD. It really had. "Love is an endless resource," Adam had said to him once, when he'd been going through a break-up of his own (which ALSO sucked, but not like this). "Love never runs out. So, when you are hurting. When you need it, don't be shy. Just, take what you need. There will always be more."

Except, that wasn't true anymore. They might both still love him. They DEFINITELY still loved each other, that was the really stupid thing- it was SO obvious they still loved each other... but the whole 'endless resource', thing? Clearly bullshit. Because the love in this house was scarce, and weak, and unreliable.

So, yeah... Break-ups SUCKED.


	6. Chapter 6- Kid Day 6 (Voltron)

**#Fictober18 Day 6**

 **Prompt "I heard enough, this ends now."**

 **Voltron Fanfiction. S07 spoilers. Angst.**

 **Adam pov, Garrison Days, Keith.**

 **Rating: T- some language, discussion of same sex relationship, mentions of foster care, death, infidelity and homophobia**

 **References Ch 72 "Fair's Fair" of my Klance fic "Shore Leave" which can be found here and here**

The voice was soft, but choked with emotion he hadn't heard before. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn't seem to tear his attention away from the hushed phone call. It almost sounded like… shit… the kid was crying. That was something he'd NEVER seen before, not even on the trips out to his father's gravesite.

"I don't understand," he was saying, "I know your foster parents aren't… yeah… but… no, but lots of people go to movies with their friends… but WHY would they be… it's just, that day, it's my birthday."

He sighed, knowing in his gut that this was going to end badly for a kid who'd already seen far too much 'bad' in his short life. He'd never liked the boyfriend, not from the first minute he'd met him. He was… slimy. Slimy in the way that shady car salesmen were slimy. Too slick, too charming, too good at playing the angles. But the kid was blind to that. They'd been in a group home together, and for some reason, any criticism of this (older, because, OF COURSE he was older… with access to a car, even) boy seemed to cut the kid deep- like they were talking about him, instead of trying to watch out for him.

Being foster parents to an angry, traumatized, hotheaded orphan had never been EASY, but it wasn't until the boyfriend showed up that there had been any sign of the kind of conflicts and attitude that people always complained about when dealing with teenagers. Arguments, door slamming (that was fun), insistence that they 'didn't understand' and 'he loves me, it's just complicated- you have no idea what its like for him'. Suddenly, they were having to police curfew (because said boyfriend cajoled him into breaking it one too many times), and grill the kid for details on what he was doing when he went out (because the boyfriend encouraged him to lie about it 'to avoid getting hassled'). Eyerolls started showing up outside of joking around (so charming- not). So, did long-suffering sighs (always a crowd-pleaser). And a whole lot of 'you don't have to like him, you're not the one dating him' (his personal favorite).

Neither of them had any luck trying to get the kid to see the warning signs, but from the sounds of this side of the conversation, maybe the kid had started to clue in on his own.

"Hold on- with WHO? Why her? You said… no, you definitely said you guys broke up… oh… yeah.. I guess that makes sense. Yeah… I get it, you can't risk it. I know… yeah… I love you, too. No… I'm not going to get clingy. I just thought, because it was my birthday you could- I know… yeah, I'm sorry…"

Hold up- HE was sorry?! Oh HELL no! He burst through the door, "give me the phone."

"Adam! What the hell? I'm on the phone!"

Rage filled him, that lying, manipulative little shit made HIS kid cry, his stoic kid who never let anyone see that they got to him, in TEARS because of some little asswipe, and then apologize for being upset. Oh fuck no! "Keith, give me the phone, now." Shockingly, the kid did just that.

"Hello," he said far too sweetly, "This is Adam. We've met. It's no secret that I've never liked you, but I've stayed out of it because Keith likes you. But that is over. No! This is the part where I talk and you listen. I heard enough, this ends now. You are going to lose this number, and any other way you have to contact Keith. You are NEVER going to sully his life with your presence again. EVER. Do you understand me?"

The little shit had the gall, the sheer, unadulterated (pun 100% intended) GALL to try and claim a misunderstanding. "I'm not fifteen, buddy," Adam snarled, "I know what 'its complicated' means when a teenage closet case has a girlfriend. I actually feel for you if you can't be out right now, I do- but not enough to let you hurt my kid over it. So, yeah. You are persona non grata as of now… lose this number or I'll make you wish you had." He hung up the phone and turned back to Keith, who was staring at him with huge eyes.

"What did you DO?!" he shrieked, grabbing for the phone, "I need to call him back! Fix it!"

"Keith," he said calmly, holding the phone out of reach, "he's not worth it. He's not worth YOU."

That made the kid pause, but just for an instant, "you don't understand anything…"

"I do. I understand. He lives with homophobes. It sucks. It's sad- heartbreaking, even… but that doesn't give him the right to hurt other people."

"He's not hurting anyone," Keith argued.

"Keith… kid, you are crying," Adam said softly, suddenly realizing that Keith was completely unaware of the tears rolling down his cheeks. "He's hurting YOU and I will not abide that."

"What do you even care?" Keith hissed, "you just got stuck with me because of Shiro."

"It doesn't matter HOW we all ended up here," Adam said gently, "you're my kid now, and you deserve someone who is proud to be with you, not someone who hides you away from the world. You are a human being- and a pretty awesome one at that- never let anyone turn you into a dirty little secret."

"He was lying the whole time, wasn't he?" It was gut-wrenching to see the kid's heart shatter like this, but it would have only gotten worse with time. "You knew. Right away, you told me not to trust him."

Adam just nodded, pulling the small teen into his arms for a hug and smoothing his hair, "I'm sorry, Keith. I wish I had been wrong."

"Oh God… I was such a jerk to you… and to Shiro. How could I be so stupid? You guys must hate me!"

"We don't hate you, kid. I love you. Shiro loves you… and you aren't stupid. You're just young. This is just part of growing up. It's how you learn."

"He had a girlfriend… this whole time, he had a girlfriend."

"I know. That's on him, not you," he smiled encouragingly, "you didn't do anything wrong. Not a thing. Now, c'mon, I was making sushi for supper. You can help me with it, and then we'll skip homework for the night and watch a movie. I'll write you a note for your teachers, too."

His eyes flew wide, "I don't want my teachers to know!"

He looked so horrified it would have been cute in any other situation. "I'm just going to say that we had family obligations that ran late, Keith, relax."

"Family obligations?"

"Mmhmm… several incredibly funny movies to distract you and keep you laughing. You are obliged to watch. Your guardian insists."


	7. Chapter 7- Uncharted Day 7 (Spook)

**Fictober18 Day 7**

 **Prompt: "No worries, we still have time."**

 **Original Fiction**

 **Rating: T Mentions of death, war, family seperation, LGBTQ2SIA+ relationships**

He found her curled up in front of the bright and shiny door to what was currently a store room. Head resting on her knees, arms hugging her legs loosely, dwarfed in the big uniform jacket his fiance had wrapped around her when they'd pulled her out of empty space. Her pale purple ears tipped down in a way he'd never seen before- although, to be fair, he'd only known her a couple of weeks. She looked so young... and small... and lost. Wordlessly, he sank to the floor beside her, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder so she'd know she wasn't completely alone.

"I grew up on this ship," she said into space between her chest and her knees after a few moments, "did you know that?"

"I didn't, but it makes sense," he answered.

"Yeah," she lifted her head, her eyes were red rimmed, the markings on her skin faded and dull, "these were our quarters until I was 10. Then we spent a few years on the surface, then we moved into the transport- converting it into a portable city. Getting ready for the mission, you know. When I got married, we lived on my little ship for a full year, just the two of us... and after that, we split our time between this ship and the transport. Even when I lived somewhere else, I was here... so much of the time."

"It must be disconcerting," he said softly.

"Yeah," she laughed, a soft, bitter sound, "I feel like I know every line of this ship. Every knock and hum of the engines. Every system. Better than the people running it, probably. I learned so much here... or I will... I guess. This time travel thing is messing with my head."

"I thought you had a pretty good grasp of it," he sighed, "you were the only one who never seemed rattled."

"It was easy to seem confident before," she answered, "I spent my entire life training for that mission. I knew all the variables. I knew all the vectors, all the math, all the history. It was like a play I'd spent years rehearsing- say my lines, hit my marks... take my bow."

"But I messed that up?"

She turned her face to look at him, mustering a sad smile, "I'm not going to complain that you saved my life. I'm not quite that spoiled."

"You went off script to save me first," he pointed out.

"Wasn't REALLY off script," she confessed, "I'd still done the math, explored the variables, plotted the vectors. Your death in my past was pointless and had virtually no impact on the outcomes of the bigger picture- It just caused people I love a hell of a lot of pain. Your LIFE- now that could make HUGE differences, for the better. We need brave, capable pilots. As many as we can get our hands on... and he needs you. Even if nothing else changed, that would be reason enough to save you."

"It's very poignant," he said softly, "how much you love him."

"I have a big heart," she shrugged, "and the version of him that I know- he..." She shrugged, her voice choking off as she swiped at tears, "he... god... she would never have been who she was without him. He's the person she loved the most, aside from me. He gave her a home, a family- when she had nothing. That's reason enough... but he helped raise me, too. He's family... and he's lost far too much. I could give him back YOU. That's almost as good as getting her back for myself."

"And you think I could let the person who did THAT, for me- for the man I love- die? Either he told all the wrong stories about me when you were growing up, or you weren't listening."

"It was supposed to be impossible," she sighed, "I'd accepted that it was impossible. I'd die, but the others would survive and get to go home... and we'd have made the changes we needed. One life instead of BILLIONS. It was worth it. I was ready. I was kind of... looking forward to it. It's so hard to breathe without her. I could do it before- surrounded by people who knew her and loved her, who knew us, who knew ME... people who could remind me of who I am outside this chasm where she used to be. But now- my wife hasn't even been BORN yet. My parents are KIDS. I mean, I like them and we get along and I think they might even love me a little bit- because someday I could be their daughter, again... if everything works out just so- but it wouldn't be the me that I am. I don't belong here. The creaky old war ship I grew up on is a shiny beacon of hope and peace... and it is making this NOISE that is just outside of human hearing but driving me crazy and I know EXACTLY how to fix it, but the tool I need won't be invented for ten more years! And everything is like that- so familiar, so different. My best friend's father is younger than me and invited me to go out drinking with his friends- do you know how odd that feels? I don't know how to do this without anyone who knows me here to ground me."

"I know you," he replied, "not as well as them... but I do. We've spent a lot of time together, you and I. I've watched ALL your little videos- including a couple of very inappropriate ones- you have some seriously strange boundaries. I've seen you with your family. I've seen you pull the man I love out of a PTSD flashback using memories of a coping ritual he doesn't have yet. I've seen you crack jokes and pick up women and scandalize your father and fight and fly and cobble together an engine out of junk and dance in open space because you think it is so beautiful to create something in nothingness. I've been paying attention. I wasn't there for your history, but I see the end result. I see the remarkable woman who took her own grief and used it as fuel to save others from going through it. I see you... and in you I see the brush strokes of the kids you mentioned, and the man I love, and the rest of the little motley crew you and your family conscripted into rewriting your past."

She managed a watery smile and snuggled into the jacket, her nostrils flaring daintily as she sniffled and breathed in the scent of her father's best friend, the man that raised the refugee she'd married and mourned. The refugee of a massacre that likely would never occur now, thanks to her devotion. "I'm glad I saved you. I see why he loves you so much."

"Eventually," he said, wiping a tear from her cheek, "we'll have the technology to send you back to your own timeline. To send you home. In the meantime, you will stay with us."

"No, I couldn't do that," she argued, "you've only just been reunited. I won't impose on that. I'll... stay in my quarters on the transport. It's the one little slice of home I still have."

"Alright, as long as you PROMISE not to lock us out," he insisted, "me and you? We've got to stick together. We're the only living ghosts that KNOW we are living ghosts. We've got to have each other's backs. Right?"

"Living ghosts?"

"We were supposed to die, and we know that... but we didn't. To use your play analogy- we are improvising from here on out. That takes guts," he smiled, "but I've seen you mouth off to the biggest drunk in the bar and laugh when he took a swing, so I know you have guts."

She snorted, "he wasn't that big... and I am tougher than a human my size would be."

"You can do this. Until we can send you home, you can make a life here."

"We should probably get back," she sighed, digging a handkerchief out of the huge jacket. She knew exactly which pocket to check. Sometimes the littlest details were the most telling of how a short acquaintanceship for them was the tail end of a lifetime of close ties for her. "He's probably freezing without this."

"He's fine," he assured her, "hang on to it. Give it back when it doesn't smell like home anymore."

She blushed, her lavender skin coloring deep blue over her entire face, the markings taking on a raspberry color, making her pale pink lashes and brows stand out in contrast. "You figured that out, huh?"

"I've been known to do the same thing when he's on mission," he confessed, smiling.

"I have no idea what to do... I was supposed to be nothing but a memory by now. Instead, I have to build a whole life from scratch. I don't know how to do that." She stood, stuffing her hands into the pockets and crunching her shoulders in a way that made her look half her age and more human that he'd seen her in days, despite her alien features.

"No worries, we still have time," he answered, regaining his feet, "you'll figure it out."

She rolled her eyes, "really? We still have time?"

"Well, it's TRUE," he laughed, slapping an arm around her in comfort and solidarity, "I mean, you aren't even going to be BORN for almost a decade!"

"Thank-you," she whispered, "for saving me. It was a dumb risk and you shouldn't have done it- but thanks anyway. You're the only reason I still have time."

"Right back at you. Wanna go mortify your future parents with one of your tmi stories?"

"Sounds good- did I ever tell you about the time I got a part time job at a brothel?"

"No, but I can just imagine how much trouble you caused..."

She leaned into him as they walked, spinning tales of her past adventures in the years to come- one living ghost to another.


	8. Chapter 8- Anchor Day 8 (Spook)

**Fictober 18 Day 8**

 **Prompt: "I know you do."**

 **Original Fiction (a continuation of my Fictober Day 7 story: Uncharted)**

 **Rating: T Mentions of war, death, family separation, LGBTQ2SIA+ relationships**

She kept the jacket, and when it stopped smelling like home, she traded it for another. She relished the scent of her father's best friend and how closely it was tied to memories of her childhood. She couldn't wear it anywhere public, because it was a UNIFORM jacket for a military organization that she wasn't a member of- in any timeline. She wasn't a soldier. Chains of command irritated her. She didn't thrive in such a structured environment. She wasn't made to conform. Honestly, she'd never really understood how her parents could cope with it- especially the humans that had contributed half of her genetic make-up and raised her. They were both strong-willed, headstrong, and kind of reckless. The aliens that made up the other half of her background- they made a bit more sense for a military career. One was the consummate soldier, and the other… imperious was probably the best description. Regardless, she was NOT cut out for a military life. Too much of a wild card. Not that she had a hard time with being part of a team- she actually thrived in a team setting as long as everyone had equal say. It was when she was expected to blindly obey that problems started to crop up.

So, she had kept the jacket. She wore it in the privacy of her own quarters, on the ship full of aliens her family had liberated before their planet had been wiped out. The ship that had been home to her boisterous siblings and exasperated parents and their closest friends and teammates for years. The quarters she had shared with her wife for far too short a time. It felt odd to have such a large chunk of the ship to herself, but she was not ready to allow strangers into her space just yet… and the younger versions of the people she considered family were all happily and appropriately housed on the other ship.

They were still watching out for her though, which felt a little odd, since she was older than most of them now. They were still the same people, just… a little less wise, a little less cynical, a little less war-worn. It did her heart good to see them so… unburdened. To know that THESE versions of the people closest to her might never have to harden and age the way that the people she'd grown up with had. It did something good to her soul to be able to watch the younger versions of her fathers fall in love and forge a life for themselves. Everything might be completely different, but that love gave her a bit of an anchor in this uncharted territory.

Slowly but surely, her living quarters were starting to become a favorite spot to hang out when they were off duty. She taught one of her dads her favorite lullaby from when she was little and helped the other perfect his kimchi recipe. She discovered her hangar was slowly filling up with junked engines and spare parts and tools enough to keep her in projects for weeks and the guy who'd taught her how to hold a wrench and bought her her first set of protective goggles blushed when she mentioned it. When she went to train or work-out, as often as not she'd find one of her childhood mentors ready to spar or spot her.

Bit by bit, they were showing her that she wasn't alone. Proving that family was made of stronger stuff than time. They'd seen her with her brother and her dads- before the three of them had safely returned to her original timeline and she'd gotten stranded here. They'd worked together to create a new future for their people… and in doing so, they'd accepted her as one of them. As lonely as she was; as homesick as she felt; there was no way any of them were going to let her feel ALONE. The whole world might feel like a weird, faulty copy of her own childhood- but she was not isolated in it by any stretch of the imagination.

Still, the best moments were often the ones she shared with the only one of the inner circle that she HADN'T grown up with. Someone who hadn't survived in her own timeline. Someone she'd saved, only to have him save her right back. There was a kind of freedom in that. There was no weight of memory. No lingering ghost of what had been to be. Just him. Just her. Just two of them trying to find their footing in a world that wasn't really designed to contain either of them. Living ghosts, he called them. It had led to nicknames. She was Spook. He was Wraith. No one but each other ever heard those names. They'd never even had to discuss it- they both just knew they weren't meant for any other ears.

So, when she heard footsteps behind her during one of her many bouts of insomnia, she expected it to be Wraith. It wasn't. It was the younger of her two fathers. The one she'd grown up being told she was a mini-version of. The one that shared the personality traits she was finding it hardest to access in this new life.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, dropping to the floor beside her. They were in one of her favorite spots, the scaffolding that scaled the far wall of the big communal hanger, overlooking her work space.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she answered, peeking out from the folds of the ridiculously too huge borrowed jacket. "I'm out like a light, safely tucked into my bed, dreaming of sugarplum fairies and strippers."

He snorted, "you got me- I actually thought for like, a split second there that you wouldn't find a way to make that weird."

"You don't like dreaming about strippers?" she asked, "I find that very hard to believe. Strippers are awesome dream fodder."

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

"You know why," she answered, "you do it, too."

"You don't have to do it with me," he said gently, "since I know why you are doing it in the first place. Seems like a waste of effort."

She shrugged, her ear twitching in agitation and flattening against her skull, "I don't even think about it anymore. It just happens."

"I was talking to my mother today," he said, apparently choosing to change the subject rather than push. "She wants to meet you."

"Nope," she answered, shaking her head. "That's not going to happen. I can't. I can't see them, so young… and start all over with them, too."

"They're your family," he pointed out.

"No. They are YOUR family. I'm not even going to be BORN in this timeline."

"You don't know that."

"I kind of do, though," she sighed, "I know how I came to be, and those reasons won't exist here. You guys will find a surrogate, or adopt, IF you choose to have kids- and I am fine with that. Really. I am. My family doesn't need to be your future. You have more options than my dads did. That's a good thing. You won't have to resort to the alien science experiments that made me and my siblings."

"Don't talk about yourself like that," he scolded, "you aren't some kind of…"

"Monster? Lab specimen? Freak?" she shook her head, "I know all that. Doesn't change HOW I came to be."

"I would be so proud to get to raise you," he said softly. "I realized today when I was talking to my mother that none of us have really said that to you. I know that you know your parents are proud of you. You've told me about how happy your childhood was, how loved you were. I saw for myself how close your family is… but you keep talking about how we aren't locked into doing things the way you remember them happening. That your past doesn't have to be our future. I don't think you realize…"

"I don't realize, what?" she asked, turning to face him, her eyes tracing over features that she grew up turning to, the furrowed brow she saw in her own reflection more and more lately.

"That getting to have you as a kid- it's something I look forward to. I hope that that is something that DOESN'T change."

Her eyes welled with tears, "thank-you. That's very sweet. It means a lot to me."

"Do you remember what you said to me the first day we met?" he asked, "when you told me you had younger siblings?"

"Some kind of cocky joke, I'm sure," she laughed, "but I don't remember exactly what."

"You said 'look at me, I'm awesome. Of course you had to go for the sequel. Who wouldn't want more of me in their life?' You were joking, but it's true. You are awesome. That was the moment I decided to follow your advice and tell him how I felt. Because as scary as the whole 'this is your future spouse' thing was- and it's pretty terrifying, let me tell ya. That's a ton of pressure! As scary as it was, I didn't want to risk missing out on these awesome kids I was hearing about. This strong, sassy, beautiful, matchmaking, badass who built a ship from scratch and named it after a lesbian sex joke, and who took the time to help heal an injury no one else even noticed, and who saw danger as an adventure, but treated everyone around her with compassion and who was the first person to crack a joke and break the tension was MY kid? That floored me… and, like you said, your brother was kind of cool, too."

The tears spilled over and she gave him a watery smile, "really?"

"Yes, really… I want you to know how lucky and honored I would be to get to have the family he did. To have you and your siblings to raise and love. We interact like friends, mostly- because we are pretty much the same age-"

"I am four years older than you," she pointed out, "you aren't even at your full height yet."

"Like I said- PRETTY MUCH THE SAME AGE," he insisted, "but you are still my daughter, and I never forget that. I love you… and today I realized I'd never said that to you. I love you and I am proud of you. I'm really glad I got to meet you. I see me in you- but… like, a BETTER version of me."

"There's no such thing," she squeaked, trying to keep from crying at all the sweet things he was saying. She just knew her face was blue from blushing and her markings were cherry red from all the conflicting emotions. "There's no such thing as a better version of you. You are the best person in the universe. I've always said that, and I stand by it. The very best person in the universe."

He pulled her into a hug, arms tight around her and hands rubbing her back. "You're not the smartest kid, because I am sooo not the best person in the universe," he teased, "but you are awesome."

"You smell like him," she whimpered, dissolving into tears finally, "and I love you- I do. I love all of you. I just… I miss him so much. I miss them all so much."

"I know you do," he soothed, "of course you do. Go ahead and cry. I got you. That's what dads do for their little girls."


	9. Chapter 9- Almost Poetic Day 9

**Fictober18 Day 9 Prompt "You shouldn't have come here."**  
 **Original fiction. Original Characters**  
 **Rating: T- mention of war, betrayal, treason. Implied violence, implied death, implied torture**

The knife skittered over her skin, feather-light and she knew that the only reason that the long, thin blade wasn't peeling her flesh back like apple peel was the control exerted by the young, pretty girl who looked like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the way the light caught on the metal, lit up the tiny blond hairs it was shaving off of her arm, and showcased just how very vulnerable she was at the moment. No one knew where she was- she'd made sure of that, herself. So confident she'd been that this was a minor problem, easily overcome with a little bit of intimidation and experience that she hadn't even considered another option for dealing with this. She'd been so wrong, and now she was helpless, thoroughly secured to a chair that was bolted to a grate that drained who knew where.

"I think I see the problem," that soft, demure voice sounded so reassuring, even when the speaker was so clearly a threat. "You thought that because I have heroic, noble friends; because I fight for the 'morally right' side of this conflict; because I espouse values you see as GOOD; that I was safe. That I was chained by some kind of code. That I wouldn't gut you where you stood when I found out your plans. Correct?"

Dread had replaced the fear. That happened when you got scared enough. Terror eventually gives way to a strangely calm certainty… and that's when dread slips in like an icy shadow, completely blotting out the warmth and light of hope before you even notice its arrival. The knife lifted and the girl rolled her eyes, looking for all the world like a little debutante from the neck up. Soft brown curls tumbled out of a ponytail that sat low on the back of her neck secured by an honest-to-god RIBBON. Porcelain skin framed huge, luminous green eyes topped with softly arched, expressive brows; dewy, pink, cupid's bow lips; softly flushed cheeks; and a thin, slightly upturned nose. Only the clothes gave some clue to the steel hidden beneath the doll-like surface- practical cargo pants, secured by a well-stocked utility belt, combat boots and a plain t-shirt- tucked in tight.

"I don't have any plans," she protested weakly, triggering a peal of laughter from her captor.

"Here's the thing," the girl said, carefully emptying her pockets and pouches onto a bare, metal table and arranging the contents of them, just so. Each item was horribly familiar to the woman in the chair. Their ominous presence such a contrast to the gentle, upbeat voice that spoke so calmly. "I admire all those wonderful heroes. I am in awe of their moral fortitude. I adore their passion for their ideals. I love them, you see. I truly do. I love them deeply. I would do ANYTHING to protect them. I would do ANYTHING to further their cause. I will do all the things that they won't if it means shaving even a few days off of this stupid fighting they are called to do. I have your files. You know I have them. You thought you could spin some heartbreaking tail of… let me guess… blackmail? They have someone you love and you need to save them by committing treason? No… you are too career-driven, too isolated for that to work. Hmmm… ah… I know… you'll claim negotiation and compromise. Sacrificing the few, the noble, the people who would gladly die to achieve peace… because that sacrifice would buy us a reprieve, we'll be SPARED. Hand over Spartacus, so to speak. Ahhh, yep- that's your rationalization. I can see it on your face." The girl shook her head, "I cannot believe you used to teach military ethics… it's almost poetic."

"I don't know what you are talking about," she insisted. The girl clucked her tongue and shook her head, using the thin blade to free the tattered remains of the sleeve she'd cut away from the pristine military officer's uniform in order to taunt that edge along bare skin not that long ago. She twisted the shredded fabric into a braided rope and forced it past her captive's teeth, tying it cruelly snug at the base of her skull.

"You thought I was going to be a soft touch, so you came to me to plead your case- because I am young, because I am vocal in my support of the good guys, of the ideals we are fighting for, because I am not quite as smart as people you are willing to hand over to the enemy. You came to me, here… and you found out just how wrong you were about me. You shouldn't have come here. I have no qualms with preemptive execution for treason, and I am very, very good at making sure that it fits the narrative. Don't worry, you'll be remembered as a hero, dying to protect the very people you were offering up on a platter. That's how you want to be remembered, right? Because you are, you know… you die, so I can protect them. See? Almost poetic. It's just your bad luck that the enemy is known to be so ruthless in their 'enhanced interrogation techniques'. Thank-you so much for teaching me all about those in class, by the way. I studied hard. I'm pretty sure I've perfected them."

She set down her knife and picked up a syringe, tapping the bubbles out of the thick, green, liquid with practiced ease. It made for a truly disturbing image: the pretty girl in soldier's clothes, wielding the tools of torture, her be-ribboned hair swaying softly, catching the sparce light, expertly glossed lips making a little moue of concentration, one perfectly manicured, pastel pink nail clicking against the plastic cylinder that the captive knew contained drain cleaner.

"Let's begin."


	10. Chapter 10- Drive Day 10

**Fictober18 Day 10**

 **Prompt: "You think this troubles me?"**

 **Original fiction**

 **CW- mention of injury, obsession and threat**

There's this _thing_ you should know about me. I can't really tell you what it is, I don't have the words for it… but it's there, and I know you _should_ know it. That's the conundrum I am facing, right now. How to convey to you what it is you need to know when all I have to go on is a vague sense of… otherness? I know I am not like you… any of you. I just don't know how I know that, or how I am different. Do you see my difficulty?

For a long time, I thought I was, perhaps, a mermaid. I loved the water, you see, but was always too wary to approach it. I felt its pull so strongly that I feared that if I touched my toe to the surf I would never be able to pull myself back and would simply dissolve into the vastness of it like tears and rain. Sometimes, I thought I could feel scales lurking beneath the smooth stretch of the skin on my legs and pelvis. I could almost believe that I could see the shimmer and shift of color through the paleness.

But then, I could resist the call no longer and I ran to the ocean and hurled myself into its briny swell. There was no transformation, no moment of triumphant rebirth as something mythical and magical. I simply sank, my heels and bottom resting on rock and sand, dead seaweed tangling in my limbs as the waves crashed and lulled around me. There was joy in those waves, I could feel it, and it still called to me. But without the romance of the idea that my truest self was a merfolk, born of salt and seafoam, the call seemed crass and strident, where once it was melodic and yearning.

I turned my back on the sea, as I am wont to do when things become mundane. My fascinations are deep and encompassing, but when they are done, they mean less than nothing to me. Water, for all its beauty and power held no more appeal for my soul. In the turning, I noticed the glorious caress of the breeze over my tide-kissed flesh. Air. Was there anything more magical than the very breath of life? Before long, I could lose myself in the breeze, see myself soaring on a gust. I could flex my back, feel the strong muscles there and sense the presence of wings waiting to erupt and carry me through the heavens. I became acutely aware of each breath I took, each whorl of wind kicking up dust or leaves or snowflakes to dance and eddy and drift. Air was so much MORE than the sea could ever be, I felt so foolish for ever having thought differently.

Eventually, my courage and conviction grew so great that I climbed to the highest place I could find and dove into the wind, confident that my transformation would save me. Alas, this was not the case. My wrong-headed trust in my magical affinity to the winds took much from me- more than the sea ever had- and I spent long, agonizing months recovering and deriding myself for being so foolish as to think that magic lurked within me, waiting to be unlocked.

I accepted the happiness of the mundane. Small, predictable, _normal_ pursuits became my focus. I learned trivia and began attending trivia nights. I took up dance as part of my rehabilitation from my near-fatal fall and continued it as a hobby. When the magnetic beauty of fire began to entice me, I tried to ignore it. I tried to deny it, the way I had denied the call of water for so long. I had learned, you see, from my experience with air that the costs could be high. But fire… so powerful… so seductive… I could not stay away. But I was cautious. Small flames. Candles. Matches. Lighters. Dancing my fingers through the flames, feeling that hot lick- like sex and danger and magic all at once. The fires got bigger. The flames hotter. Blue fire was my favorite- hoarding its light away from onlookers, but broadcasting its heat and power so clearly. I began to wonder… could I be a salamander? A dragon? Were there asbestos scales beneath my skin? Would I shed to reveal plates of obsidian and basalt? Fire took my hair. It scorched the flesh from my hands and feet. I transformed, because that is what fire does, but I was unable to avoid being consumed.

Earth never called to me. I never felt drawn to soil and rocks and the steady stability of the foundation of everything. I tried to listen. I tried to hear. But any song it held for me had been silenced by my flitting heart, my lack of focus.

So, there is something within me- I know not what it is, but it drives me to extremes. I hunger for magic. There is a _thing_ within me that seeks its own creation. It is important and hungry. My only purpose is to bring it into being. I know you need to be told. I know you need to be… warned. I am learning, you see. I am learning that birthing this hidden truth will consume me. **You think this troubles me?** It does not. I will be triumphant. I will be reborn. The magic that dwells within me will be brought forth. This broken, questing _thing_ that I yet am will fall away to reveal something wondrous.

I tell you this, because there is this _thing_ you should know about me. I don't know exactly what it is. I don't have the words to explain- but it is hungry. I can feel it coiling and uncoiling in my soul.

It needed water, and I gave it water.

It needed air and I gave it air.

It needed fire and I gave it fire.

It needed thirst and pain and offerings and I gladly gave it all that I could.

Now, though, now it needs blood- and I don't think mine will be enough.


	11. Chapter 11- Forts Day 11 (Voltron)

**Fictober 18 Day 11**

 **Voltron fanfic featuring Klance, future family, Uncle Shiro FLUFF**

 **Rating- all ages**

 **Prompt: "But I will never forget!"**

"Come in!" Lance called, loud enough for Shiro to hear him through the door. The door slid open and Shiro couldn't help but smile at the scene of domestic chaos that greeted him. Lance had a basket propped on his hip and he was weaving through the open concept living area grabbing toys and throwing them into the basket, grumbling in Spanish. "Hey," he said with a smile, "thanks again for doing this. My parents had to cancel at the last minute and… it's just been forever since we got out of the house, you know?"

"I do," Shiro said with a smile, "and I'm happy to help out."

"Uncle Shiro!" was the only warning he got before a small person collided with his knee and started trying to scale his leg, "uuuuuup!"

"Talia! Stop that! Give him a minute to sit down before you start crawling all over Uncle Shiro or he won't want to come visit anymore."

The four year old gasped, utterly scandalized at the thought, "i-is that TRUE?" she asked Shiro.

"Never," he assured her, scooping her up into his arms, and tapping her on the nose, "I will ALWAYS want to visit my favorite girl."

"Promise?" she asked, her eyes huge.

"I pinkie swear," he pledged, "where are your brothers?"

"Ummm… Thace is doin' homework. Spelling," she added solemnly, as if that was a serious and ominous task. Shiro nodded along with her, matching her expression. "Rai is helping Dad give Kashi a baff."

"Gotcha," he said, "and what were you doing?"

"Col'ring," she answered proudly, "I got new pencils- like a BIG kid."

"Veronica got her a set of colored pencils," Lance explained, making a face as he found a bottle of sour milk INSIDE a hand puppet. "Eww- nope, not even washing this one, straight into the trash it goes." He sighed, letting his shoulders drop and turning to face Shiro, "sorry… I got a little… Hi, Shiro. How are you doing?"

"Good. Good," he ruffled Talia's brown hair, "busy… but you guys would know all about that."

Lance laughed, "yeah, BUSY is a pretty constant state around here. Hey, Talia? Can you please go get into your pjs and let your Dad know Uncle Shiro is here?"

"Okay," she chirped pleasantly, scrambling out of Shiro's lap and running off.

"Bless her helpful little heart," Lance sighed.

"Still can't used to 'Loverboy Lance' being so… settled," Shiro mused.

Lance waved the comment off with a grin, "I've always been a big family guy. Although- being outnumbered four to two might be my limit. We'll see how much a handful Kashi is once he's mobile. Okay- so for tonight, Kashi's got a touch of the sniffles, but Keith's already given him some medicine and he'll be bathed and all ready for bed before we leave. He's been sleeping really well in the playpen lately, so you can keep him down here with you if you want. Might be easier than having him upstairs in the nursery. Thace is not allowed any screen time if he doesn't finish his spelling, but he's making decent progress, so probably won't be an issue. Don't let the twins have any popcorn- they'll eat themselves sick. Other than that… you know anything I'd tell a sitter."

"Thace lose that tooth yet?" Shiro asked.

"No! If you can convince him to let you give it a yank, go for it. If it DOES come out, there's some tooth fairy change in the Raisin Bran cereal box."

"Ooh, good choice of a hiding spot- kids hate that cereal!" he laughed.

"Hey Shiro," Keith handed a chubby, gurgling, bald baby over to Lance with a quick kiss on the cheek, taking the basket and setting it on top of a bookshelf. Lance made faces at their youngest, triggering peals of laughter. "Kosmo blinked out when he got splashed one too many times. I'm not sure when he'll be back, but don't worry about him, he's pretty independant."

"Yeah, I'd say I'm familiar with the quirks of your space wolf by now," he answered, standing to take the baby from Lance, "now, hand over my namesake and get going before you miss the previews."

Keith chewed his lip for a moment, "the formula-"

"Is in the cupboard above the coffee machine," Shiro finished for him. "Go. I've got this. Enjoy your date night. Say bye-bye to your fathers, Kashi," he made the baby wave his little hand.

"He's right," Lance said, "we're going to be late."

"Okay, okay," Keith sighed. "Guys- we are leaving! If you want hugs and kisses, you better come get them now!"

"Ugh! I'm not a BABY!" Thace's voice was a little muffled by the walls. "Just GO!"

"Waiiiiiit!" Talia barrelled back into the room, now dressed in pajamas that were covered in little mermaid pictures. Shiro smiled as he watched her get caught by Keith and tossed into the air. She squealed happily, "kisses!" Grinning at his daughter, Keith covered her face in loud, dramatic kisses while she giggled.

Rai slipped into the room and Lance picked him up, kissing his forehead, "be good for Uncle Shiro, okay buddy?"

"Promise," Rai said, squeaking as he yawned. "You're coming home RIGHT after?"

"Can I take Dad out for ice cream between the movie and coming home?" Lance asked the little boy, who seemed to take a moment to think about it.

"Okay, but just ONE SCOOP," he said seriously. "Just ONE."

"Alright, deal," Lance agreed easily.

"Then RIGHT home," Keith added, leaning over to kiss Rai's cheek.

It took a few more minutes to finish making their good-byes and get out the door, but soon Shiro was standing in the living room with two four year olds and a baby in his arms. "Right," he smiled at the kids, "what are we doing tonight?"

"Forts!" yelled Rai excitedly, "you promised last time we could make forts!"

"Yeah!" squealed Talia, who had clearly forgotten until her brother had spoken up. "Love forts!"

"Forts it is, then," he laughed.

"Wait!" cried Thace, "I still have THREE WORDS! Don't start without me!"

"In that case, let's see if we can get Kashi settled away for the night," Shiro suggested, "and then we can do all the big kid stuff. Good?"

"I'll get his bottle," Talia scrambled over the back of the couch.

"He already haded his bath and med'cin," Rai said helpfully, as the baby gurgled and patted at Shiro's face, "Dad sings him a song when he has his bottle at bedtime."

"A song, huh?" Shiro sighed a little, "I think I can do that. What song is it?"

"A dumb baby song," Rai commiserated.

"Yeah, I thought so. Is it the one about buying all the stuff?" He knew it was. It was the only lullaby he'd ever heard Keith sing to any of the kids. Lance had a whole selection, but Keith found on that worked and stuck with it.

"Yeah, that's it," the serious little boy said, nodding- his expression and movements so like Keith that Shiro had to lean over and press a kiss to the top of the kid's head.

"I'm done. I'm done," Thace slid into the room, brandishing a sheet of paper.

"Okay- let me see," Shiro instructed him. The lanky, dark-skinned boy was practically dancing in place as he held his homework up for inspection. "Looks good!"

It actually took three rounds of the lullaby and the better part of half an hour of pacing the floor to get Kashi to sleep, but the older children were remarkably helpful and quiet while they did it and before too long he was settled away in his nursery.

They all took the fort building very seriously. There were plans and sketches involved. Pillows and blankets were dragged into the living room from all over the house and furniture was rearranged to accommodate them all. Shiro made snacks. Thace refused to let him anywhere near the loose tooth- even saying no to having the 'cool robot hand' pull it free. Rai insisted on watching his favorite cartoon from inside the fort, crawling into Shiro's lap to do so and dozing off within ten minutes of it starting.

Thace told him all about school and his new friends while Talia practiced her braiding on Shiro's bangs. Once she was bored with that, she taught them a new patty-cake rhyme that Shiro suspected she made up. Then she crawled into his lap beside her twin and made him sing her lullabies until she fell asleep with a fistful of his shirt in one hand and the other thumb in her mouth.

As soon as she was asleep, Thace switched the tv to a different movie. One for 'real' big kids like him. Kosmo returned and Shiro and Thace made up stories about the adventures the space wolf might go on when he wasn't at home guarding his people.

It was near midnight when their parents got home to quarters that were dark except for the flickering light of the television. A massive construction of pillows, blankets and furniture crowded the living room and right in the center of the chaos was Takashi Shirogane- former leader of Voltron, Captain of the Atlas, Champion- sound asleep while cradling three children and a space wolf to his chest protectively.

"Awww babe," Lance whispered, "look how cute they are. Think we could get away with snapping a picture without waking them? Just so we can remember how precious they are when they are sleeping, and how much their Uncle Shiro loves them?"

"No way we could get a decent shot without a flash," Keith whispered back, curling his arms around Lance and kissing the side of his neck sweetly, "I don't think we really need it, though… because I'm not sure about you, but I will never forget!"


	12. Chapter 12- Martyrs Day 12

**Fictober18 Day 12**

 **Prompt: "Who could do this?"**

 **Original Fiction, Original Characters**

 **Science fiction**

 **TW- war, battle, betrayal, death, mention of suicide**

They'd trained for almost half their lives for this mission. They'd grown up being told how vital they were to its success. Regular schooling had been put aside to build skills that would specifically benefit them in facing the challenges of this mission. They'd been loved and cherished by their parents and siblings and extended family, but always, there was the undercurrent of their 'destiny'. The twins that would undo all the evil that had led to this nightmare of a war zone. Every soul crushing defeat had been met with a reassuring pat on the shoulder and whispers of 'it will be undone'. They'd grown-up hearing the whispers, seeing the slightly averted gazes, feeling the pressure. They were custom made. Genetically designed. The perfect balance to each other, with the perfect balance of talents and skills to make them unstoppable.

Finally, the day came. Their entire lives had been building to this moment. Their heroes' journey coming to fruition at last. They would be victorious. They would save the world- the universe even. They would face the enemy, an elite task force at their back, and TRIUMPH… and once that happened, their lives would be their own. For the first time ever. After this mission, they could find love, they could take vacations, they could have hobbies, they could just be siblings, ordinary people for the first time ever.

They'd grown up in a war zone. They knew the realities of war. They'd had friends and loved ones leave on 'routine' missions and not return. They'd seen peers orphaned as whole colonies were obliterated. They'd comforted men and women decades older than them, just by being alive. They'd slowly become the surrogate children to every person on base that had lost their own offspring, every person who chose not to reproduce as a way to avoid that pain.

This was the mission that would justify their existence. Infiltrate. Sabotage. Obliterate. Dismantle. It was never going to be easy. But they were prepared. They were well-trained. They'd practiced and practiced. They'd made back-up plans. They'd accounted for contingencies. The universe was counting on them. They could not fail.

It had been a massacre. Chaos. His parents had been taken out first. Plasma blasts ripping through them, filling the air with a scent that ensured he would never eat roasted meat again. One after the other, they'd fallen- and he froze. His parents were the bravest, most skilled warriors imaginable… and in less than a blink, they stopped existing outside of memories. Still, he'd pushed on, the mission consuming him. His sister had nodded at him, her eyes filled with tears and a determination that said, clearly, 'we won't let them die for nothing'.

She'd been so wrong.

It was clear that the enemy was prepared for them, easily predicting and foiling every contingency plan, every emergency protocol. All around him, the team he'd grown-up thinking was unbeatable, immortal, dropped like flies. Dead or incapacitated in less time than it took to blink. Someone had betrayed them. Someone had handed them over to die in nameless corridors of a secret installation, light years from anything familiar. The specifics of this mission were incredibly well guarded. Only the most trusted inner circle knew anything about it. Someone they knew and loved had handed them over to be slaughtered.

In the span of minutes, every person he'd ever loved, he'd ever trusted, lay dead or close to it, at his feet, and the enemy just kept coming. It wasn't surprising that he and his sister were the last ones standing- the primary directive for the others was to protect them at all costs. The mission was a failure. The cause was lost. He knew it. She knew it. They'd let everyone down. They weren't heroes. They were just sheltered kids surrounded by corpses, ill-prepared for the reality of fighting the enemy.

Retreat wasn't an option. Even if they never reached their goal, they had to keep pushing forward. There was nothing to differentiate them from the other members of their team to outside eyes. That was done on purpose. There was no way the enemy could know who had been killed and who was still standing. That was important, because they couldn't risk being captured. Their options were succeed or die in the attempt. He moved his hands slowly, communicating with his twin sister from across the hall. She returned the slow, deliberate gestures. "I love you."

'Suicide by patrol'. It was a phrase that had come into being to describe the people who were so hopeless that they lost even the barest shred of self-preservation and eventually started to antagonize the patrols, just because they couldn't muster the strength or desire to keep themselves safe anymore. It had always struck him as so sad, so pointless… so HARD. He always thought it must be so hard to be at a point when your own life is worth so little to you that your anger at being oppressed overpowered it. He'd always wondered who could recognize the threat and think 'fuck it' and set it off on purpose when something as simple as surrender or retreat would save your life. Now, though. Now he understood. He and his sister needed to die. They needed to die at the hands of the enemy to become martyrs. It wouldn't do for them to put each other out of harm's way. It wouldn't do for them to take their own lives. The only option was suicide by patrol. They both knew it. His resolve wavered for a split second, eyes flicking to the anonymous battle armor that hid his twin's identity from all but him. It WAS hard, but it was also incredibly easy. All he had to do was crest his cover and it would be done. All she had to do was stand and she'd be taken out. Who could do this? Who could make that decision and follow through, knowing it was death that awaited. Turns out, he thought, as he and his sister moved in unison, planting themselves directly in the path of enemy fire, they could.


	13. Chapter 13- Soulmates Day 13 (Spook)

**Fictober 18 Day 13**

 **Prompt: "try harder, next time."**

 **Original fiction, Original characters (a continuation of my Fictober Day 7 story: Uncharted and my Fictober Day 8 story : Anchor. This one featuring Wraith and Spook)**

 **Rating: T Mentions of war, death, LGBTQ2SIA+ relationships**

"Hey Spook." He found her sitting by the sakura tree in the huge garden on her city-ship… well, not HER ship really, but he still thought of it that way. The gardens provided food and helped to scrub carbon dioxide out of the canned air, but they also provided a much needed source of beauty and tranquility. He wasn't surprised to find her there, sitting under the tree she'd planted in memoriam to her late wife. There as some kind of special significance to the tree that he didn't grasp, but that was fine. He didn't need to know WHY it was special, just that it WAS. "So, if memory serves me correctly, today would be your anniversary?"

She nodded, "five years. She's now officially been gone longer than she was my wife." A deep breath shook her small frame.

"But you guys were together for a while before that, right?" he asked gently, dropping to the floor to sit beside her.

"Yeah," she gave him a watery smile, wiping at her eyes, "I was 14, she was 16… but our species age differently, so I was technically closer to adulthood than her, at first."

"Your first love stuck, huh? That's rare."

"Soulmates," she stretched, "people like to pretend that's just romantic bs, but it is a thing. A real thing. You know what I mean."

"Are you saying that he's my soulmate?" he blinked at her.

"You didn't know?" she was visibly surprised, "yeah- you guys are. Anyone with any magical ability can see it. So are my Dads. She was my soulmate. I knew… I dunno, the second or third time we met, I was 13… which translates to about 16 or 17 for a pure human. She… took longer." She laughed softly, "when we met she thought she was straight."

Wraith laughed, shaking his head, "poor thing, I suspect you weren't the most patient person while she figured that out."

"No, I was a serious pain in the ass. I mean, I gave her space… but I had a bad habit of parading my many, many dates under her nose. For a straight girl, that really bothered her an awful lot."

"You are evil," he teased, "but it looks like it worked."

"Yes and no," she answered, "I'm sure it was part of it… but mostly, it was that I got sick. Really sick. Like, 'might not make it' sick and she," she shook her head, smiling again, "my first coherent memory is of her telling me she loved me and I wasn't allowed to die."

"That's very dramatic and intense… it suits you."

"God, I miss her. I realized yesterday I couldn't remember her laugh. Not the 'that was a good joke' laugh… I have enough videos where she's laughing at something that I'll never forget that… but the little laugh- you know the one I mean? The spend-the-day-in-bed-and-pretend-the-world-doesn't-exist laugh that was just for me, just for us. The honeymoon laugh. I can't remember her honeymoon laugh."

"That kind of stuff is always rough," he commiserated. "Grief is brutal. Tell me your favorite story about her… that doesn't involve sex- you seriously have strange boundaries when it comes to sex."

"I wouldn't tell a sex story about her. Those memories are sacred. Okay, my favorite story about her… would be the proposal. She was like, quietly romantic- little private gestures, unexpected stuff. But, as you can probably guess, I'm all about the big showy stuff. So, I was planning on proposing in a way she'd love. There was this big formal event coming up that we both needed to attend… for a ton of boring political reasons. Anyway, I wrote this poem for her, and I got a ring- it was made of this mineral that doesn't exist on earth, a soft flexible green metal. Rare, but much safer for a fighter, and she was one hell of a fighter. I set everything up on my little ship, so that when we got back from the event, she'd see the note and I could get down on one knee with the ring held up. Perfect."

"It sounds it,' his face was so kind, so sympathetic. He knew her pain all too well.

"So, we're at the event, and I'm making the rounds, shaking hands and letting people kiss my knuckles… all the hob-nobby stuff. My whole family is there, actually pretty much everyone I knew was there... and all of a sudden my sister is smacking my arm and pointing to the little dias where they'd been making speeches and toasts and stuff… I look up and it's her, and my kid brother, who has a guitar. She apologizes for interrupting the festivities and my brother starts playing and she starts singing. She had a beautiful voice- like little bells. She'd written me a love song. I was a mess- ugly crying… it was a whole thing. So, I'm wiping my eyes and I look over at my dads, and they are holding this sign that says 'will', which didn't make any sense, so I like look around a bit, and my sister is holding one that says 'you' and then my brother flips his guitar over and the back has a sign that says 'marry', and then she's holding out this like treasure chest thing with a ring box and another sign that says 'me'," she smiled, eyes on the blossoms of the tree, "it was this big, showy, romantic proposal that was everything I could want. I said yes, obviously."

"Obviously," he agreed, "even if she did steal your thunder."

"She didn't steal my thunder. She WAS my thunder. I was just the rain. When we got back to the ship and she saw what I had done, she burst into tears. I was like 'I was trying to be romantic your way, but my timing was off, I guess.' and she kissed me and laughed- that honeymoon laugh I can't remember anymore- and then she smiled and said, 'looks like if you want to beat me to the romantic moments, you are going to have to **try harder, next time** ,' We were so young. So clueless."

"But you had each other, at least for a few years. Some people don't get that much. That's what I used to tell myself… when I thought he was dead."

"Did it help?" she asked, her voice raw.

"Sometimes… but not often."

"Thanks, Wraith… most people avoid talking about her with me. That's worse, somehow."

"Anytime, Spook. I know what it's like. Now, I've got cognac back in my quarters," he said, "let's go make a dent in the bottle and you can tell me more about her. We'll start a new anniversary tradition- happy memories."

"Happy memories. I like that."


	14. Chapter 14- Tending Day 14

**Fictober Day 14 Prompt: "Some people call this wisdom."**

 **Original fiction/Original characters**

 **Fantasy/Magical Creature**

 **Rating: T for** **LGBTQI2SA+ themes**

The pixies were in an uproar by the time she got back to her dorm room. Caprea dropped her satchel onto the little table by the door and took in the destruction. Two… no, THREE emptied casks of assorted fermented nectars. Random articles of clothing scattered everywhere. An overturned bottle of ink and snapped quill- lovely, that would be so much fun to clean up. Likewise, for the very rare, very expensive bottle of saffron honey her mother had given her for potion-making, which was oozing slowly down a stack of spellbooks, the gooey rivulets surrounded by miniscule, telltale hand, foot, and… yup… those were undoubtedly butt prints making it clear that the pixies were all highly intoxicated. She stopped to right that bottle and re-cork it, because that saffron honey was easily the most valuable thing in their quarters and she refused to let any more of it go to waste.

Further regard revealed half a sandwich, hastily and improperly covered by an upturned glass bowl. At least a dozen candles of various colors and compositions… and, of course, one dozen frantic, screeching pixies bouncing around the room like a swarm of gnats. She sighed, she honestly had NO IDEA what could have happened, and she knew better than to try to get any kind of coherent explanation from the pixies. "Tansae?" she called, fanning one straggling pix away from her face and hair. "Are you still here?"

"Y'am," came the response from the far end of their small suite of rooms. "Fer now an'always. F'r ever n'ever n'ever!"

"Isn't Fennelore throwing a party for YOU tonight?" she half-hollered, picking her way across the minefield of books and bottles and other detritus the floor had become, moving toward her dorm-mate's room. Four pixies flew into her face, their clashing voices high and indecipherable when they were this agitated… and sugared. "Ugh," she muttered softly, "you all should make yourself useful and put some of this hodgepodge to rights! I know you contributed to making it!"

"Fennelore can suck m'twigs," Tansae responded, the statement punctuated by a loud clunk as something (probably a shoe or book based on the sound) hit the door.

"But he's been planning this for MONTHS!" She'd reached the door, but she knew better than to open it without Tansae's ok. "Can I come in?"

"Ugh, FINE," Tansae said, and the door flicked open. Caprea had thought that the common areas were a mess- she didn't even have words to describe what she face in Tansae's bedchamber. It seemed as if all of her roommate's possessions were tossed on the floor, or floating mid-air, or dripping upwards… so, yeah, the guest of honor for Fennelore's massive, elite soiree was completely uprooted on fermented nectar.

"Sweet moon," she breathed, "what happened?"

"Leuce," Tansae groaned, plucking a pillow out of the air to scream into. "Leuce happened."

"Ah," she wove through the obstacles to sit down next to her roommate. "Did you ask her out?" Tansae had been mooning over Leuce since their second week of classes- nearly a year ago. It was one of those awful, all-encompassing crushes that turned you into a tongue-tied, clumsy, blushing idiot. Tansae of the Black Oaks had never had that kind of crush before and it was taking its toll on the usually confident dryad.

"Not exactly," she rumbled, the mistletoe that grew interspersed with her hair, cycled through a full turn of the seasons. Before Caprea's eyes they budded, berried, burnished and fell. "I WANTED to, but then I's talking to her an'she laughed, an'I completely forgot what I'ad practiced… was like m'brain got dry rot."

"It probably wasn't as bad as you think," she soothed.

Tansae lifted her head from the pillow, levelling a dry expression at her roommate, "I told'er Fennelore was throwin'a party an'she should come."

"So far, so good…"

"An'at it was pro'bly goin't be crowded. Kind'a 'the more the merrier' thin… so she should feel free t'bring someone if'n sh'wanted."

"Wait- so, in trying to ask her out, you somehow told her to bring someone ELSE to YOUR party, as her date?"

"Exactly!" Tansae flopped back onto the mattress dramatically, screaming into the pillow again. "HOW?! How does she do this t'me?" The words were muffled, but Caprea managed to make them out.

"You're just not used to being on THIS end of a crush. It sucks, but we've all been there at some point."

"Well, I hates it… an'she's in E'ERY SINGLE ONE o'm'classes an'almost all m'clubs. So, I'm just gon'ta stay in'ere til graduation. I'll just scry the lectures an'submit e'erything by scroll. I don't need t'go anywhere. Easy."

"Except that Fennelore is your Green Man, and he loves you, and he has sunk a ridiculous amount of time and money into this party," she pointed out, "and if you don't go, it could cause major fallout in all the groves that impacts all of us." Her voice gentled, "and hurt the man that will be safeguarding your saplings someday."

"But I don't wan't'go," Tansae whined, "Leuce might be there… an'I'll make an idiot o'm'self- in front of some o'the most powerful an'influential nymphs in the world… an'THAT will cause major fallout, too."

"Tansae, this is a party for YOUR tending, you cannot skip it," she stressed.

"What if'n I don't WANT a tending? Hmmm?"

"Sweet moon, how nectared ARE you? Tending isn't something you can skip! Besides, I know for a fact that you have been dropping leaves about your tending for weeks, right up until you screwed up with Leuce," she sighed, "regardless, backing out isn't an option… and you know it. So, come on, let's get you dressed."

"Y'know," Tansae griped as she stood and started changing into her party clothes, "bein'ware o'what y'can emotionally handle an'avoiding situations that would b'harmful t'yer emotional or mental health is important. That's what I'm doing. **Some people call this wisdom**."

"Mmm… some would.. But WISE people would call it cowardice."

"Fennelore would be really upset if'n I didn't go, wouldn't he?"

"Fennelore would be devastated," Caprea answered, "he loves you. You love him."

"I do love him," Tansae sighed, "but Leuce…"

"The situation with Leuce will work itself out with time. You can't go downing whole casks of fermented nectar because you put your foot in your mouth in front of someone you are smitten with. You are a Black Oak- you have centuries to pursue Leuce… but tonight you have your tending with your Green Man, and seedlings have a much much smaller window of time to work within." She helped Tansae lace up her gown, using her own magic to wind and twist the black hair and mistletoe into an elegant updo. "Who knows, maybe Fennelore will sing your praises to Leuce. It wouldn't be the first time a Green Man played matchmaker for his dryads."

"I could never ask'im t'do that, it feels too much like… exploiting 'is power."

She sighed, "well then… maybe Leuce thinks your blushing and awkwardness is endearing. Alright, let's get a look at you." Stepping back she regarded her roommate- the wispy green and white gown contrasted beautifully with her deep brown skin and brought out the leafy green of her eyes and lips. The mistletoe that grew in with her hair turned a simple updo into something showstopping. "Beautiful- just remember to blossom once you get to the grove."

Tansae grinned and hugged her, "yer the best roommate e'er. T'morra when I get back, I'll 'ave seedlings growin' in Fennelore's Grove!"

"I know! It's so exciting! Now, shoo… before you are late. I will… try to sober up the Pixies and clean this place up." She used her magic to clear a path for Tansae so her gown wouldn't get ruined by debris and waved her roommate off. She looked around their living space, shaking her head at the chaos left in Tansae's wake, and the growing number of pixies that were passing out midflight and spiralling to the floor like maple keys on a windless day.


	15. Chapter 15- Spirit Week Day 15 (Voltron)

**Fictober 18 Day 15**

 **Voltron fanfic featuring Klance future family (as seen in "Forts" from Day 11) FLUFF**

 **Rating- Pg (minor language, same sex couple)**

 **Prompt: "I thought you had forgotten."**

Halloween was one week away and for some reason, this year, everything was beyond busy. The little school on board the Atlas had chosen this week to be 'spirit week' and the preschool had joined in- which meant that three of their four kids had different thematic activities every. Single. Day. If that wasn't busy enough, there were Coalition meetings every single afternoon that required the full complement of Paladins and MFE pilots to be in attendance. Plus, Thace had been sick the week before and was trying to catch up on his missed work, AND Kashi was teething.

All those things combined had left both Keith and Lance wrung out and twitchy Keith loved their life, and most of the time they did a great job juggling work, family, friends, and couple time. But, every now and then, everything seemed to happen all at once. It didn't help that Lance insisted that McClains went ALL OUT for Halloween, and that making sure the kids got to fully participate in all the 'fun' school activities was important to Keith. He remembered how much he'd hated it when he was in the system and his foster parents, or group home workers couldn't be bothered to make sure that the kids in their care were wearing silly socks, or all blue, or dressed as their favorite story book character, or whatever. It sucked to be singled out for not doing the fun stuff, and Keith wanted to make sure that his kids never knew what that felt like.

So, on the weekend they'd prepped for each and every day. Monday- crazy hair day. Easy- Talia and Rai had long hair and Lance had grown up with sisters, so he was a whiz at that. He'd made tiny little buns all over Rai's head, then added pipe cleaner legs and googly-eyes stuck to bobby pins to turn them all into spiders. Tala's hair was pulled into a high ponytail and threaded through a thoroughly cleaned pop bottle with strategic holes to pool in a plastic drinking cup stuck to a headband. Thace's hair was shorter and paler, so he got spikes and colored hairspray. Done. The kids were thrilled and Lance had taken about 400 pictures of them before they'd left their quarters.

Tuesday was color day. Each class was assigned a color, and the kids dressed head to toe in it. More colored hair spray, and a deep dive into the McClain's family hand-me-down bins had outfitted Thace in "lime" (seriously, though? Lime? Not just green? Why so specific?) and the twins in "purple". Talia had been thrilled, purple was currently her favorite color. Again, leaving the quarters took longer than usual because of the photoshoot with Lance.

Wednesday had been 'silly socks'. That had required an actual shopping trip, and not only had they worn the silly socks on their feet, Lance's sister had shown the kids how to cut socks into fingerless gloves… which was cute, but had led to far too much teasing about his own teenaged fashion choices for Keith's liking.

Thursday was 'dress as your hero day', and when they'd gotten to school, a good 75% of the kids were dressed as Paladins, which was sweet and heartwarming (and led to about a million pictures, since Lance had INSISTED that they bring the kids to school wearing their armor). However, none of THEIR kids wanted to dress up as the Paladins of Voltron. Their parents and honorary aunts and uncles were definitely not 'cool' enough to be their heroes. Oh no- he and Lance had had to put together one Bi Boh Bi costume (Talia had been unable to explain to either of them WHY Bi Boh Bi was her hero, but he suspected she just liked yelling the name at the top of her lungs), one King Alfor costume (thankfully Coran had stepped in to help for that one), and one Kosmo costume. He wasn't cool enough for his actual son to consider his hero, but their space wolf WAS, go figure. Although, honestly, he was just glad none of them had wanted to dress up as Uncle Shiro with his 'cool arm' or Kolivan.

Friday felt like a gift to the parents after all the work of coming up with hero costumes- Pajama day. It should have been easier than it was. None of their three wanted to wear 'boring old' pjs, they all wanted new onesies in very specific themes (and yes, he realized his kids were spoiled… but they were perfect and they deserved to be spoiled and that was final). Of course, none of them had mentioned THAT until they were sitting down to supper on Thursday, and there was nowhere on the Atlas to get that kind of thing, so all six of them ended up on the surface, well past bedtime, with a cranky, teething baby, shopping for footie pjs: one alicorn (very specific- an alicorn has both a horn AND wings. If only one was present it was either a unicorn, or a pegasus- the things you learned from a four year old), one shark (because Thace was basically just 'Lance, the sequel' at the moment), and one 'scary halloween skulleekin' (that was too cute to ever be corrected- if Keith had his way, Rai would be calling skeletons 'skulleekins' until he was 50)... and OF COURSE as soon as Lance saw that they made them in adult sizes, he insisted on getting them pjs, too. A penguin one for Lance, and a purple hippo one for himself. Even Kashi got one- his was a panda, and even Keith had to admit their little roly poly drool machine made the cutest panda ever.

Spirit week cost a small fortune… but the kids had been thrilled, which was what really mattered. It was just that between all that, AND the meetings, AND taking turns walking the halls with a howling infant every night, AND making sure they were all ready for the shockingly long list of Halloween-themed activities Lance's family had as traditions in the latter half of October, Keith really just wanted… like… a nap. Not even a long one. Just like, half an hour of solid sleep, without being chewed and/or drooled on by their youngest. He was seriously cute. Absolutely loveable… The apple of his daddies' eyes… but right now he was a slobbery mess who really needed to let his parents rest before they went completely off their rockers.

So, he'd been absolutely overjoyed when he'd gotten a text from Lance letting him know that Veronica had volunteered to take Kashi for the night, and that the other kids had all been packed off to sleepovers with various teammates. Talia at Shiro's, Thace at Pidge's, and Rai at Hunk's. All he could think about was how good it was going to feel to sleep through the entire night and wake up rested- and free of baby drool. Man, parenthood really changed your perspective on how to spend a night off.

He was barely awake when he reached their quarters. He hardly even recognized that he was hungry until he smelled the food that was waiting for him, which brought him up short. He took a deep breath, letting the aroma fill him. Lance had cooked. Not only that, Lance had cooked his absolute favorite Cuban meal, a secret family recipe for pernil relleno de moros y cristianos. If he was really lucky there would also be croquetas and Cuban corn on the cob. Special occasion cooking.

"It smells AMAZING in here, babe," he called out, toeing off his shoes and hanging up his uniform jacket. He picked up a few stray toys on his way through the living room, tossing them into the toy box with practiced ease. "I can't believe you cooked! How did you have the energy to cook?"

He rounded the corner and was caught up in a warm, lingering kiss from his husband, who took one look at his surprised face and chuckled. "Mmhmm, just what I figured. It's been so busy this week… no one would believe me when I told them **I thought you had forgotten.** But I know you. I knew it. You've barely stopped moving in days. You are running on autopilot. Babe, what's the date?"

Keith blinked at him, confused. "Umm… it's Friday," he started, glancing around for some kind of clue. He knew it wasn't their anniversary- they'd gotten married in June, and he NEVER forgot that… but Lance was one of those romantics that remembered every little milestone- although thankfully, he never expected Keith to remember the little ones. Finally, his eyes lit on the counter and the few small wrapped gifts that sat next to his favorite Hummingbird cake. "Shit… I can't believe I forgot."

Lance just laughed, handing him a drink and steering him to a seat at their table. "Yeah. Of course I cooked… AND made sure we had the night to ourselves. Happy Birthday, babe. Love you so much."

Keith snaked his arm around Lance's waist and pulled him into his lap, "how did I ever luck into marrying you? You're amazing, I can't believe you did all this! Thank-you." He took his time kissing his husband, wanting to make sure that there wasn't even the tiniest shred of a doubt in Lance's mind about how much Keith loved him and loved the life they'd built together.


	16. Chapter 16- Sunkissed Day 16 (Spook)

**Fictober 18 Day 16**

 **Prompt: "This is gonna be so much fun!"**

 **Original fiction, Original characters (a continuation of my Fictober Day 7 story: Uncharted, Day 8 story : Anchor and Day 13 story: Soulmates. This one featuring Spook and a new OC: Grift)**

 **Rating: T Mentions of war, death, gun violence**

So, there were lots of things that sucked about being stranded in a new timeline, almost a decade before your own birth and staring down the early days of a war that you really hoped turned out differently this time around than your own history would suggest. Little things like being out of touch with pop culture, or not being able to find your favorite tool because it hasn't been created yet, or craving a food no one knows how to make. Weird things like realizing the new baby that everyone is cooing over is your favorite babysitter from when you were six, or seeing vehicles you consider 'classics' being billed as the cutting edge of technology, or fixing your aunt her favorite drink only to have her choke on it, because it was the first time she'd ever tasted alcohol. Oops.

There were big things, too. So few of the people she was meeting now were alive in her timeline, even though they were young and healthy. Her history knowledge told a story of a world that was wholly unprepared for the might of the invaders that came seemingly out of nowhere, attacked using technology they couldn't even grasp, and operated under a moral view that was unfathomable to humans. Losses had been staggering, to say the least. The devastation unthinkable for anyone who hadn't witnessed it for themselves. That's what she and her family had been sent back to try to avoid. They'd done everything they were supposed to- and a bit more… but she was never supposed to stick around to see how those changes played out.

In her childhood, the Earth had been teeming with alien life from across multiple galaxies, humans making up only a small portion of the population. The skies had been grey and dull, air quality poor except in areas where massive purification complexes filtered dust and other fallout from the air and water. It had been HOT, the destruction of hundreds of cities within the span of a few months too much for the planet to correct on its own and throwing 'greenhouse effect' into being almost overnight. Most of the surface was water, the majority of the rest was desert, and massive sandstorms raged outside of cities built under the protection of huge forcefields or physical domes- much of the population living underground or in orbit. Now, she was one of less than a thousand individuals with even partial alien heritage, and the Earth was green and lush and thriving. No air quality alerts, no radiation alarms, no food shortages. She was now getting to see the Earth that her family loved and spoke about. The Earth that so many people had died trying to protect.

Sometimes, the weight of that gift got to her. People already thought she was the strange alien traveller, stranger even than the other aliens she had brought with her. It didn't help that it had been decided it was best not to mention the whole 'time travel' thing and instead a cover story of being a science experiment that had been force-grown on a world that no longer exists and growing up in the resistance had been built for her. (Actually, it wasn't even all that far off from the truth). She was seen as someone not to be trusted, despite being vouched for by the planets most celebrated heroes. Despite the knowledge she had offered them. That was alright. She was from a much more paranoid world than this one, so the mistrust didn't really bother her much.

But the odd looks when she would get overwhelmed by the little things she'd only ever heard about were frustrating. She wanted to scream and yell at them to appreciate it all, because it could still be lost. Her timeline might not be that different from this one, even with all the work they'd put into changing it.

Seeing a butterfly was a MIRACLE. Swimming in the ocean was a GIFT. Being able to stand, on the Earth's surface, and feel the sun kiss your skin, no need for breathing apparatus, no need for thick suits to protect the skin from being sanded off by the grit in the air, no need for heavy goggles that protected the eyes from pollution and radiation? Just your feet, on the ground; soft sunshine warming you; clean, salty spray from the nearby beach tickling your flesh; sweet smelling flowers wafting on the breeze? That was something out of a fairy story… and she was going to make the most of it every chance she got, dammit. And if people looked askance at her for it, well, they could stuff it.

"So," came an awkward voice from somewhere behind her. "When they said you were getting some sun down by the water… I wasn't really expecting to find you naked…"

She turned toward the newcomer, "you squeamish about nudity, Grift?" He was, by her math, maybe a year her senior at this point. Elite pilot, fast track for military leadership- a rising star by all accounts. In her memory, he was one of the highest ranking members of a military force that was getting younger and younger by the year as losses continued to mount. But he'd been on the front lines of the fighting since the very first assault, and not only had he survived, each and every one of his squadrons held some of the highest survival rates on the books. Smart. Talented. Responsible. Respected… and an arrogant asshole who CONSISTENTLY butted heads with her father and with the aliens that held the power to make tactical decisions. Not a particularly well-liked guy among her loved ones when she was growing up.

She could see all those traits in him now, too, for all that he was younger, brasher, less worldly, more innocent. Green. He was also a xenophobe, which had surprised her, because the man she'd known 'back home' was not. Of course, by the time she'd been born, he'd had almost a decade of fighting side by side with aliens to rid him of any initial distrust.

"That's not my name," he said, as he always did when she called him that. She was starting to wonder how long it would take him to clue in that the main reason she did it was BECAUSE it got to him. It seemed pretty obvious to her. He didn't even know yet how much of an insult it actually was. Man, she could not WAIT until the Byx/Sieb made contact with the humans and he found out what 'grift' actually MEANT! "Not squeamish about it, no. Just wasn't expecting to see you… without clothes in public at high noon. You immune to skin cancer or something?"

She tipped her face up to the light, loving the way the sun tickled her markings. "I don't actually know," she answered, shrugging, "I'm not really used to worrying about things that might kill me in a few decades. Usually, I can barely keep up with the things that might kill me this week."

"Yeah, that makes a certain amount of sense," he chuckled. "You don't mind people staring?"

"I'm purple, Grift. I'm purple with color-changing rosettes, pointy ears and sometimes my eyes glow… and I blush blue. I'm used to people staring." She bent down to pull a pair of shorts and a tank top out of her bag, clearly her alone time was being cut short. "What's going on?"

"Word from on high," he joked, referring to the tactical ships that were in orbit above them. "I'm supposed to test your firearm conflict competency. The new allies are pushing for you to get a security clearance with Earth's military… even though you aren't military."

"How are they justifying that?" she asked, slipping into the shorts, curious to see what loopholes the younger versions of her family were coming up with.

"Diplomat status," he said dryly.

She stopped short, waistband sitting at mid-thigh, and gaped at him. "DIPLOMAT?!" she laughed, "me? That's rich. I suck with diplomacy."

"Looks like we are in agreement on that front," he answered.

She glared, tugging the shorts into place and getting to work on the button fly, "listen up, pretty boy- you are no better with people than I am, and you are WELL aware of that."

"Pretty boy?" one of his eyebrows quirked, he seemed surprised that she'd said that.

"What? You have symmetrical features, good hair, are in good shape, high cheekbones, straight nose, full lips, delicate features… objectively, you are pretty- which you KNOW and have no qualms about exploiting. It wasn't a compliment. I'm not swooning."

"You don't strike me as the type to swoon," he said on a short bark of laughter.

"You don't know me," she reminded him, pulling on the tank top as she walked toward him, "I'm a notorious swooner. You're just not my type."

"Not a fan of pretty?" he teased.

"Big fan of pretty," she replied, her eyes glowing a soft, warm yellow, "all kinds of pretty. Pretty hair, pretty eyes, pretty legs, pretty wings- annnd there you go. That face. The one you made when I said wings. That's why you aren't my type. It's not about how you look, Grift. There's something ugly in you. You're pretty like Vokarin Crystal is pretty. Lovely to look at, but get too close, and it poisons you. I'm not human, and I can't change that. So, I stay away from anyone who thinks that makes me some kind of monster. You can smile and charm, but I see that ugliness in you- just as easily as I see your pretty hair and perfect bone structure. It doesn't blind me to the fact that you are VERY good at your job, though… so, how do we assess my firearm conflict competency?"

"There is a specific set of training scenarios you need to pass," he answered, falling into step beside her as they walked back to the building, "all done with non-lethal munitions."

She turned to him, a predatory smile stretching her lips, and she could feel her ears flatten back in anticipation of something that stirred her hunting instincts, "shoot'em'up sims? I love shoot'em'up sims!"

"Don't get cocky," he warned her, voice stern. "I'm the one you are facing off against, and I have HIGH standards."

"Shoot'em'up sims against YOU?" she could feel her rosettes cycle through a few different colors in response to her shifting mood, "ohhhhh man! **This is gonna be so much fun!"**


	17. Chapter 17- Busy Day 17 (Voltron)

**#Fictober18 Day 17**

 **Prompt: "I'll Tell You But You're Not Going to Like it."**

 **Voltron Fanfiction. S07 spoilers. Angst.**

 **Keith pov, Garrison Days, Post-Adam/Shiro split, Post-Kerberos**

 **Rating: T- some language, discussion of same sex relationship, mentions of foster care, death, illness, broken homes, grief.**

Adam was asleep on the couch when he got home. His briefcase was lying on the floor beside his shoes, his coat draped over the counter of the little island that separated the kitchen from the living room. Keith could see in his mind the exact path he'd taken when he'd gotten home. It was a short one. Maybe 15 feet. Door, drop bag, shed shoes, step, shuck coat, step step, drop tie onto coffee table, step, collapse on couch. This was pretty much par for the course now.

As far as the Garrison was concerned, ex-fiances didn't qualify for bereavement leave. Neither did 'foster kid of ex-fiance'- because technically that's what he was. Shiro had failed the medical assessment to foster or adopt, but Adam had passed. So, on paper, he was Adam's legal responsibility, not Shiro's. So, when the news had come in about the mission being lost- leaving a smoking crater in the center of their lives- they'd discovered that they didn't qualify for the supports in place for bereaved families. Adam had quickly exhausted all his sick days, vacation time, and banked personal time. Keith had run out of allowed absences from class even faster.

Once that had happened, it was back to 'normal' life in an abrupt shift that left them both reeling. So now, Adam pushed himself through a full day of teaching class and attending staff meetings and making sure he got his requisite hours of flight time and continuing education, and the second he walked through the door, he pretty much collapsed.

Keith, on the other hand, was more hardened to the SHIT that life liked to throw at him. So, he went to class, did his best to keep his head down, then came home and kept busy. That was easy to do, really. There were still meals to be made, dishes to wash, laundry to do, dust to wipe down, homework to be completed, bills to pay, bathrooms to scrub, and vacuuming to be done, after all. Plus, he had to feed Adam, keep him on task while he did lesson prep and graded papers, keep him AWAY from the wine and photo albums (he wasn't a drunk or anything, but even one glass of wine combined with the photo albums meant the night was lost to the bottomless pit of grief that seemed to reside in every picture of Shiro), and then herd him into his own bed before he crashed on the couch.

Keith didn't mind. Honestly, he didn't. Busy was good. Staying still was his problem. Because if he stopped moving for even a moment… BAD things happened. He never really FORGOT. Shiro's loss was always right there, lurking around the edges of his brain, dimming everything into pale, washed out colors and muffled sounds. But most of the time, he could avoid thinking about what the loss actually MEANT. It was when he stopped moving, stopped doing STUFF, that the meaning crept in and devastated him.

No more hover bike races. The last one they'd been on was it. That was the last time he'd ever hear that laugh on the wind. Hear that proud cheer as Keith overtook him. See that competitive little smirk as he watched Keith pass him and then buckle down to put the 'kid' in his dust. No more quiet, dusty conversations watching the sun set before heading back to base in a much more leisurely and companionable ride. Done. That part of his life was closed away forever now- just like hanging out at the firehouse while his Dad was on shift was done and closed off.

No more stupid sing-alongs while they cleared the dinner table and washed the dishes. No more chasing a laughing Shiro out of the kitchen as he protested that 'it's just toast! Even I can make toast!" because, no. He really could NOT make toast, and no one wanted to fill the house with smoke from burnt bread. No more overhearing weirdly flirty arguments about coffee vs tea, or crosswords vs sudoku that always seemed to end in someone giggling and someone else shushing and then a bedroom door shutting just as Keith cranked his stereo and found something else to think about. No more REAL-but-not-scary arguments about wedding planning and place settings and guest lists. No more threatening Keith with having to give a toast or throw a bachelor party. No more surreptitious thumbs up of encouragement when Iverson cracked down on him at school, or affectionate shoulder grabs when he blew up at fucking Griffon, or quiet hugs when everything seemed to pile onto him all at once and the world seemed huge and hostile.

All that stuff was in his past now, and it was best if he just… put it out of his mind and stayed busy. So, he set his backpack on a chair and started digging through the cupboards for something to put together for dinner. They were almost out of produce, and the pantry supplies were running a little low. There would need to be a grocery trip soon. He hated those, because Adam insisted on coming and when people saw Adam they stopped to offer condolences, to check up on them- which made him remember what it all meant, and sent Adam into a downward spiral again. He wished he could just take the list and do the shopping alone, it would be so much less painful.

Still, for today, there was enough to choose from that he could feed them. Beef, stir-fried with mushrooms, onions, garlic, peppers, and carrots. Soba noodles in some jarred ginger sauce he found way in the back of the cupboard. Tinned peaches for Adam, mandarin oranges in cherry jello for him. Nothing fancy, but hot, and kosher, and more or less healthy. All with enough left over for them to pack up lunches for the next day, too.

"You cooked?" Adam's voice was sleep rough, his glasses askew from having fallen asleep with them on.

"I mean, it's not restaurant quality, but it's edible," Keith answered, dishing up the food.

"You shouldn't have to do that, Keith," Adam sighed, "I'm the adult, here."

"You needed rest. I needed to keep busy. Win, win," he replied, setting one plate in front of Adam and gesturing for him to sit. "Besides, I'll be 18 soon enough, right?"

"Right," he flashed Keith a smile, weak but genuine. "Which reminds me, your worker should be dropping by soon, I got an e-mail the other day." He pulled out his phone, clearly intending to check, and Keith's heart sank.

"You should eat first," he prompted, "before it gets cold."

"This will only take a second- I don't want to forget about it. Just let me… Keith? Why do I have an e-mail from Iverson flagged urgent?"

"Ummm…" he fidgeted, "I mean, **I'll tell you, but you're not gonna like it.** So, maybe we should wait until after dinner?"

"Mmmhmm… that's not going to happen. You tell me now and I won't read the e-mail until after dinner. How's that sound? Orrrr, I'll read Iverson's version of events FIRST."

"Alright, fine," Keith grumbled sitting at the table across from Adam, "I'm suspended. For fighting. One week."

"Dammit, Keith! What happened?" Keith had thought Adam looked exhausted before, but he'd been wrong, because right before his eyes Adam sort of… withered… like the strength and energy had just been sucked right out of him.

"I don't even really know. We were in the simulators today, and I screwed up. I don't even know HOW, I've aced that particular simulation so many times, but today… I just couldn't get my head in the game. So, I was already in a shit mood, and then fucking Griffon…"

"Language," Adam chided, earning a scowl.

"FREAKING Griffon," Keith corrected, "started crowing about beating my score and got in my face and the next thing I know, we're being hauled off to the office."

Adam sighed, "alright, first things first. Are you hurt? Does your uniform need cleaning or repairs?"

"No, everything is fine. He bloodied my nose, but I bled on him, not myself. I have like, a bruise on one of my knuckles from when I socked him in the jaw, but that's about it."

"Let me see."

"Adam, it's nothing."

"Keith! Let me see your hand," he insisted. Reluctantly, Keith held out his hand. The bruise had spread, covering three of his knuckles now, but it was obviously a minor injury. "We'll put some witch hazel on it after we eat."

"That's it?" Keith asked, more than a little shocked.

"Do you think there is anything I can say to you about getting into fights at school that hasn't already been said?"

"No, probably not."

"Right, and I'm smart enough to know that if Takashi couldn't get through to you about this, I'm sure as hell not going to be able to. So. Suspended for one week. Consider yourself grounded for the same duration… and you will be completing all of the class work that you are missing here at home… AND writing an apology to James Griffon."

"What? But he's an ASS!"

"And YOU have to learn how to deal with assholes without resorting to violence, Keith! I know you are aware of the fact that there are assholes EVERYWHERE, but you are almost 18 and there are going to be very serious consequences for you if you can't get your temper under control. He was an ass, but YOU threw the first punch, so you apologize. Be glad I'm letting you write it instead of giving it face to face."

"I can't believe this," he muttered, pushing food around his plate.

"Listen, kid," Adam said, his voice soft, "I'll fight for you, you know I will… but I'm not Takashi Shirogane." He choked on a sob, but pushed through, "I'm not the darling of the Garrison, the star pilot poster child. My words and opinions don't have the same weight as his do… did… as his did. I can't protect you as well. I need you to work with me."

"Fine," Keith couldn't even look at him. He knew if he lifted his eyes for even a second, he'd see how broken Adam was, and he could not cope with that right now. So, he did the only thing he could, kept himself busy with eating and tried not to think about how things used to be.


	18. Chapter 18- Wound Up Day 18 (Spook)

**Fictober 18 Day 18**

 **Prompt: "You should have seen it."**

 **Original fiction, Original characters (a continuation of my Fictober Day 7 story: Uncharted, Day 8 story : Anchor, Day 13 story: Soulmates, and Day 16 Story: Sunkissed. This one featuring Spook & Wraith and mentioning Grift)**

 **Rating: T Mentions of gun violence**

"Ohhhh man," she giggled, "Wraith, I was SERIOUSLY impressive! I mean, I know I'm not exactly modest when it comes to this stuff, but I kicked. His. Ass."

"Well, I've seen you with a gun, Spook," he answered mildly, "I'm really not all that surprised. Besides, your alien dna means you have better reflexes AND your vision is more suited to long range targeting. The poor guy didn't even know you had a biological advantage."

"Poor guy? This is Grift we are talking about. The darling little heart throb of the entire organization. Poor nuthin. Besides, he wasn't even supposed to be COMPETING against me, he was supposed to be EVALUATING me. He was the one that decided we should go head-to-head" she hopped to her feet on the bed and did a little bouncing dance, her voice a sing-song, "and I got a perfect score! Bam! Booyah! Per-Fect Score!"

"Okay, okay," Wraith laughed, knocking her ankles out from under her so she fell onto the mattress beside him. "Perfect score. I get it. You got to rub it in his face. I understand."

"But you don't. You can't. If you understood, you'd be celebrating triumphantly with me." She crawled over him, arms crossed over his chest and face tipped up to his. He was one of the few that she was completely comfortable being physically affectionate with, and she made the most of any opportunity to do so. "He was so pissed. SO pissed. He was sooo sure I'd fail… and then?"

"Perfect score," he said dryly.

"Perfect score," she repeated, "oh man, Wraith, his FACE! The look on Grift's face! **You should have seen it.** It was amazing. Even better than when he found me naked at the beach and didn't know where to look." She sighed happily, rolling onto her back and kicking her legs up into the air, bicycling them in an attempt to burn off some excess energy. "I'm too wound up to hang out in here all night. We should do something fun. Go celebrate."

"Back up a second- naked at the beach?" he asked, "WHY were you naked at the beach?"

"Because I wanted to feel the sun on my skin?" she answered, looking at him in confusion, "because I CAN be naked at the beach without putting myself in a medbay? The sun makes my rosettes tickle. It was nice."

"You are so odd sometimes… just do me a favor and don't tell the others- they'll get all over-protective and scandalized and be all 'you should talk to her- she listens to you'," his voice went high pitched and mocking, "I don't like the nagging. AND I want to stick with being your FRIEND not some kind of stand-in for your parents."

"I don't get how they are so prudey now- they were never this prudey when I was an actual child," she rolled her eyes, "I was just NAKED, it's not like I was hooking up with anyone. I was literally standing still and looking at the sky. It's just skin."

"Exactly- it's not even worth mentioning." He grinned at her. "So, you wanted to celebrate?"

"Yes! How does… rock climbing sound?"

"Rock climbing sounds… pretty fun actually. You surprised me, I was expecting you to call for a night out at a club."

"Nope- clubbing is what I do to cheer me up. I want to do something fun, and challenging with my friend."

"You know who LOVES to climb?" he coaxed.

"Ok fine, you can invite your fiance- BUT if he starts being all over-protective-honorary-uncle I'm leaving your asses behind."

"Deal!" He grinned, "babe? Love of my life? Man of my dreams?"

She made a playful show of gagging. The familiar, although MUCH younger, face of the man she grew up knowing as the best friend of her father, and who later became her beloved father-in-law, appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"What, my darling husband-to-be?" he answered, batting his eyes in exaggerated affection.

"You wanna go rock climbing? SOMEONE has something she wants to celebrate."

"Oooh! A celebration? Did you meet someone?" He asked, his face alight with curiosity.

"Pfft, no! Better! I had to run shoot'em'up sims with Grift as part of getting security clearance, and I put the smug little shit In. His. Place! I got a perfect score!"

"Yes!" He swung into the room and gave her a high five, "I cannot stand that little smug little shit!"

"See?" she said, turning to Wraith, "HE gets it!"


	19. Chapter 19- With The Band Day 19 (Spook)

**Fictober18 Day 19**

 **I'm With the Band (original work)**

 **Original fiction, Original characters (a continuation of my Fictober Day 7 story: Uncharted, Day 8 story : Anchor, Day 13 story: Soulmates, Day 16 Story: Sunkissed and Day 19 story: Wound Up. This one featuring Spook in her original timeline, before the mission that stranded her alone in the past)**

 **(Rated teen for language, violence, mentions of drug and alcohol use, and LGBT2SQIA+ themes)**

 **Prompt: "Oh please, like this is the worst I have done."**

It was the last chance to see her 'baby' brother perform before the big mission, so the whole, massive family turned out to see the show. The venue was… not big, and having so many people crowd in to cheer him on pushed it dangerously close to capacity. As much as she loved all the various cousins and parents and aunts and uncles and might-as-well-be-family friends, having sooo many of them kicking around was seriously going to cramp her style when it came to the OTHER plans she had for the night- namely get shit-faced and work her way through as many orgasms with as many partners as not-quite-humanly possible.

Still, while the night was young, she could make the most of the crowd and party with her loved ones. She wasn't quite THAT sex-crazed… yet. Ever since her parents had insisted that she start weaning herself off the grief suppressors that might interfere with her ability to access and channel the magical abilities that were vital to the 'big mission' she'd been coping by self-medicating with hits of adrenaline and endorphins- excitement and sex. Not the most sustainable long term plan, but she didn't intend it to be long term. It just had to keep her functional until the mission was done.

So, everytime her little brother gave her that nod that meant he was about to play one of her favorites, she grabbed the hand of some new loved one and dragged them out onto the floor. She'd always loved to dance- she'd even taken classes when she was really young. Not that what she was doing now looked anything like tap or ballet. She bounced to the driving beat, a huge smile on her face as she screamed the lyrics out and wove to the music. This time she was dancing with her twin's lover, a gorgeous charmer with a great smile, better rhythm, and what her favorite aunt called 'latin hips'. One of her favorite dance partners, actually. They spun her out and back, pulling her tight to their thigh and grinding to the beat with her. It didn't mean anything, they'd just known each other for years and years- since long before they'd started bedding her brother- and had always had this playfully flirty relationship.

She laughed as she was thrown back, dipped so deeply that her long hair brushed the floor, then snapped up into a tight spin. "He's staring at your ass," she yell-whispered into their ear.

"Oh, I am aware," they answered, an evil little grin spreading over their midnight skin, "wait til we hit the black lights- betcha a fiver he'll drag me out of here before the end of the song…"

"You got the ink?" she gasped, surprised.

"Ohhhh yeah," they answered, pulling away enough to give them both a bit more space to maneuver, "I am very, very pleased… and he has no idea…"

"Oh, this will be good," she laughed. Her twin had a thing for body mods- piercings, tattoos, other markings, cyber implants… he tried to pretend he didn't but it was more than a little obvious. The inky-black skin of her current dance partner didn't take well to piercings, and they had a religious objection to cyber. A few months ago, they'd FINALLY found an artist that worked exclusively in photoreactive pigments and they'd been planning this surprise for her twin ever since.

"Heads up," they said suddenly, "you've got an admirer. Blond, Interrycan, blue… dress? Over by your sister."

"Interrycan?" she echoed, "HOT." She grabbed their hand and let them snap her out on a spin that gave her a full view of the room- including the tall, lean alien that was 100% checking her out. The 'dress' was a traditional Interrycan garment that was essentially a scarf that draped around the back and crossed in the front where the ends were attached to the golden rings that every Interrycan had placed around their clavicles once they reached the age of majority. "SERIOUSLY hot!"

"Go on," they laughed, "I'm going to drag your brother up here anyway. Just don't let Mr. PR see you duck into the backroom."

"Mr. PR is totally shit-faced, in case you haven't noticed," she laughed, nodding in the direction of the table that held both of her fathers and her former father-in-law, who had no idea that the younger generation called him 'Mr. PR' behind his back- a nickname that originated from her late wife. "I'm golden!" They both laughed as they spun away from each other, her heading in the direction of the alien that was still making eyes at her, and her dance partner making their way to her twin.

"Hey," she said to the blond, making her little sister roll her eyes and make herself scarce, "want a drink?"

"I'd love one," she answered, the syllables a little strange because of the forked tongue that Interrycans possessed. "But I should warn you… I'm on amaora…"

"Amaora? Oooh FUN!" she answered. Amaora was a party drug that amplified physical sensation, reduced inhibitions, and increased physical stamina… it was also excreted through the skin of users in reduced potency- resulting in a contact high for susceptible races… which she definitely was. "What are you drinking?"

Three drinks, two songs, and one swimming head later- she was stumbling into a back room with that deliciously forked tongue tickling her tonsils. Interrycans had skin that tasted like ginger- warm and spicy and delicious- and coupled with the amaora that ginger skin was laced with, she was having more fun necking than she'd had since… junior high, maybe? She giggled happily, loving the tingley, floaty feeling she was getting from the booze, and the drug and the imminent sex.

Kata- that was her name… Kata. She was pretty sure it was Kata, anyway. Kata was making quick work of her clothes and seemed to be having just as much fun based on the little gasps and mumbled words she was hearing.

She was lifted up by her tall partner and wrapped her legs around her waist as she was slammed back against the wall, the impact triggering a rush of sensation and making her shiver and sigh. "Strong," Kata purred, nipping at her throat.

"Mmmhmmm," she moaned, her head craning back, "you, too…" Her hands burrowed under the filmy fabric of the scarf, thumbs stroking over the little ridges in the skin that covered Kata's ribs, making her moan. Man was she EVER glad she paid attention in Xenobiology class!

One minute she was having the time of her life, and the next she was trying to keep her focus as three BIG guys strong armed their way into the room and ripped Kata out of her arms. She dropped to the floor like a stone, dazed and disoriented. Kata, on the other hand was much quicker to recover. One long leg lifted and kicked the first guy square in the chest, sending him into the sink- oh! They'd ended up in a private bathroom. Cool. That meant…. She ducked under the hands that grabbed for her and rolled. She was impaired and unarmed and she didn't recognize the race of the intruders, so she was uninformed too.

Not good. She'd gotten herself out of immediate reach and bought herself a few seconds. Hopefully long enough to fix the whole 'unarmed' issue. Her preferred weapon for hand to hand was Iriskan Batons, but she didn't bring weapons to her brother's shows… so… she hopped up, rocking on her feet slightly from the sudden shift, and grabbed the two narrow pipes that rose out of the back of the commode and yanked hard. It took another two solid jolts, but both pipes came free- sending up a spray of cold water and leaving her armed. On the upside- the icy cold water cleared her foggy mind a bit and rinsed any remaining traces of amaora off her skin.

Hugging the wall, she crouched and got a feel for the weight of the pipes. Kata was keeping two of the guys occupied and handling herself quite well. But the third guy was not the slightest bit slowed by the water. He strode toward her and he was MASSIVE easily twice her size with a long reach. Years of training kicked in and as he got close she rolled out of the way, swinging the pipes together to crack into his kneecap and the back of his knee at once. The joint buckled, throwing him off balance and she continued her spin into a high kick, the steel-reinforced toe of her boot catching him in the back, right over his lower rib. She heard a crack that might have been a bone, or could have been… nope, Kata had busted a sink and was wielding the broken ceramic like a blade. Hot. Focus!

Big guy was recovering and turning to face her, so she moved again, this time using the seat of the toilet to launch her into the air, bringing the pipes down in quick succession on his skull and leaving him dazed enough that she was able to land a couple of punches, still clinging to those pipes. He went down, but before she could catch her breath massive arms snapped around her torso, squeezing her so tightly she couldn't pull a full breath in and her hands almost immediately started to tingle and go numb.

She shrieked (as much as her restricted breathing would allow) and thrashed, because when quiet and deadly wasn't working, make a racket. Scream your head off. Attract as much attention as possible. Especially when you were a small female and the person you were fighting was a big male. Outdated gender roles still created an unconscious bias in onlookers that worked in her favor.

"He's the last one!" she heard someone holler- Kata. She must've dealt with one of them herself. She was jerked forward, something must have impacted with the back of the guy holding her. The jolt made her slip down in his grip slightly. It wasn't much, but it was letting her get a touch more air and when she kicked out, her feet scraped against the wall.

"Do that again!" she yelled back and she could tell the remaining asshat was starting to realize that hanging on to her like this was leaving him completely vulnerable to anything Kata threw at him. This time when he jolted forward, she was ready, legs curled up, feet together. He jerked forward and she kicked out, her boots denting the older wood of the wall and throwing his balance completely off. Reflexively, he released her to catch himself before he fell.

She landed on her back with a splash, winding herself, but managing to avoid cracking her head on the floor. Her arms were still numb and tingling, hands weak, so she wasn't in the best shape. Thankfully, she wasn't alone. Kata was a surprisingly good fighter… for a random bar hook-up. She rolled away from the stumbling man, still trying to drag some air into her lungs. She was getting dizzy from lack of air… and probably from the amaora and booze, too- but breathing was kind of important. Her head swam and it was getting hard to focus. Uh-oh… she might actually pass- suddenly her magic flared to life, sending her into a spasm like she'd gotten hit with electricity.

Her lungs expanded, sending a rush of oxygen through her, and the magic skittered over her skin, sparking into the air like little embers from a fire. Suddenly, she felt STRONG. Invincible even. Some part of her brain was trying to remind her that intoxication+magic was a BAD combo, but she didn't really care.

"You shit," she growled at the last guy, who had Kata by the throat. The words felt strange in her mouth and she suspected that the magic had done more than just energize her. She licked her lips, surprised by the feel of fangs where her canines had been. "I was having fucking fun!" With a sound that was very close to a roar, she charged, feet slipping slightly on the wet floor. She brought one of the pipes in her hands down HARD into the center of his forearm and there was a flash of light as the magic burst around the impact, increasing the strength of the blow. This time the crack she heard was definitely bone, and Kata fell from his grasp, a shaking wheeze telling her that the blond was pulling in some air.

The big guy howled, and she yelled right back at him, one of her boots stomping hard on the back of his knee. Another loud snap and bright burst of magic and he went down. Even on his knees, he was almost as tall as her, but the back of the skull was a weak spot for almost all bipedal races and she didn't waste any time swinging her pipe down on his. This time the burst was so bright it blinded her temporarily.

Blinking rapidly she turned to where she thought Kata was, "you okay?"

"Yeah…" Kata's voice was hoarse, noticeably pain-laced. "I think so."

"I can… probably… help… with… the pain," she panted, totally overwhelmed by power and intoxicants and adrenaline. "C'mere… Kiss me… it'll help… magic kisses…"

She still couldn't really see much, but she felt the soft, warm hand on her hip, felt the little burst of the contact high, and then there were soft, velvety lips on hers and a little forked tongue tickling the roof of her mouth and her body surged, reminding her strongly of what had been interrupted. She felt her magic swirl around the both of them, and heard the pipes splash and clatter to the floor as she moaned and pulled the tall blonde flush against her, deepening the kiss.

"What the actual hell!? PIXIE!" her father's voice cut through the haze and Kata jerked away from her.

Her sight seemed to be returning to normal, except for a few spots floating around the edges of her vision. She let her eyes scan the bathroom. Oh. Wow. The sink was destroyed. Water still sprayed from the busted pipes and was several inches deep on the floor. Her shirt, bra, and jacket all floated near the drain that was completely ineffective against this volume of water. Three large guys were strewn on the floor, two of them bleeding… that one by the door might actually be dead- she had no idea what Kata had done to him. One end of the light was torn free of the ceiling, wires hanging in a tangle.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror- oh. Her hair looked like hell, sodden and matted and clinging to her skin weirdly.. Power was still crackling through her, making her skin and eyes glow, her pupils had slitted and- oh hey- those fangs were still there. Kata didn't look much better- that thin floaty scarf completely transparent from water, streaked with blood and torn in several spots.

It could be worse though. She was unharmed as far as she could tell. Kata seemed to be mostly okay. AND her father had used his pet name for her instead of the litany of ALL of her given names- which meant he was worried, not angry. Which was good, because, she'd been the one that was ATTACKED, after all.

Still, he probably wasn't thrilled at finding his daughter glowing, and be-fanged, half naked, drunk, high, and making out with a random alien in a trashed bathroom surrounded by- um... possibly corpses?

"Baby? Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle as he ventured into the room and looked around.

"I.. think so?" she answered.

"Holy shit, Pixie- this place is destroyed… we need to get you out of here… if word of this gets out…."

" **Oh please, like this is the worst I have done** ," she giggled, still totally buzzing from too many things to count, "this wouldn't even make my top ten."


	20. Chapter 20- Clueless Day 20 (Voltron)

**Clueless (Voltron Fanfic)**

 **Fictober18 Day 20**

 **Prompt 20: "I hope you have a speech prepared."**

 **Voltron fanfiction. Klance. Keith/Lance**

"Okay," Lance said. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet, staring off into nothing for so long Hunk had actually forgotten he was there, and he yelped and dropped the measuring cup in his hand with a clatter.

"Quiznak, Lance!" he clutched at his chest, "you scared me half to death!"

"Sorry," he said, expression sheepish, "I didn't mean to."

"I know, bud, I know," the Yellow Paladin reassured him. "But gone all quiet and then you just… 'OKAY!' out of nowhere. What were you even 'okay'ing?"

"Ummm… so… we've been trying to keep it kind of lowkey, but… Keith and I have a thing… like a THING, thing…"

"Hmmm," he said neutrally, fighting the urge to grin. 'Lowkey' his ass. Anyone who HADN'T noticed that Lance and Keith 'had a thing' for the last few months had to be blind, deaf, and completely oblivious to the world around them. The 'thing' was most definitely 'HIGHkey'. "Annnnnd?"

"And? Oh, come on… at least PRETEND to be shocked here, Hunk! I know you know me better than anyone, and you probably already figured it out- but I'm saying it. Outloud. To you. That's big."

"Fine, you're right, that's kind of a big deal," Hunk set his baking aside and pulled his friend into a hug. "I'm really happy for you, Lance. Honest."

"Thanks, man," he hugged him back. "Soooo… I think I'm ready to like, drop the l-bomb."

"You are?" Hunk was a little confused. Did Lance not…. Realize?

 **Five months earlier:**

 _"We can't waste anymore time!" Keith slammed his hands onto the the table, lurching to his feet, "there are people in that facility who are being hurt- as we speak! We have the plans, we have the shift schedule, and we have Voltron- what more do we need, Allura?"_

 _"We NEED a contingency plan!" she argued, "and better information on how many Galra are within range to help them if we somehow trigger an alarm!" They'd been going around in circles for the better part of a varga: Keith wanting to move quickly, Allura wanting more intel. Neither was giving any ground, and they were both stubborn as hell._

 _"Keith?" Lance's voice was soft, "I love you and all, but Allura's right."_

 _Keith blinked at Lance, dropping back into his seat and going quiet for a second. "You.. um… Okay… How long will it take to get that information, Princess?"_

 _"Hmmm… well…" She shook her head, one eyebrow drifting upwards slightly, and tapped her tablet, "not long. Two, maybe three, vargas?"_

 _"Fine," he relented, "waiting for more information wouldn't be the worst thing."_

 **Now:**

"Yeah… I think so, anyway," Lance replied, chewing at his lip, "it's kind of a big step, though… you know what I mean? I don't want to spook him or anything…"

"To confirm," Hunk said carefully, "you are worried about scaring Keith off by telling him you love him… for the first time?"

"Yes! Exactly!" His whole face lit up, "you soooo get me, Hunk!"

 **Four months earlier:**

 _"I cannot believe you found space-foosball, Pidge! This is the best!" He hip-checked Keith playfully, hands spinning on the weird alien handles._

 _It was 'Team Klance' vs 'Team Punk"- the team name had been hotly debated. Well, Punk had taken less than a second, Klance had taken forever- and wasn't even chosen by either of the people ON the team. Lance had wanted 'McKogane', and Keith had suggested 'Space Rangers'. Eventually, Pidge had just gotten fed up and written 'Klance' on the scoreboard- pissing them BOTH off, but effectively putting an end to the arguing._

 _They were tied for games won, but in this, their fifth game, Pidge and Hunk were trailing miserably. One more goal for Keith and Lance and the game would be over, winning them the tie-breaker match. There was much hooting and cheering and trash talk, but the games had stayed cheerful and good-natured, despite how viciously competitive three of the four players were known to be._

 _Pidge was quick, with an eye for patterns- like the ones people fall into when playing games like this one, and scored three goals in a short span of time, starting to close the gap between them. But she wasn't the only quick one- and Keith managed to intercept the ball and score the winning goal._

 _"Awwwwww yeah!" crowed Lance, slapping Keith's hand in an enthusiastic high-five, "love you for those lightning fast reflexes, Mullet!"_

 **Now:**

"I'm pretty sure you are going to be fine," Hunk reassured him. "It's been awhile, I'm sure it's not going to surprise him."

"I'm not so sure," he shook his head, "we've been keeping it pretty casual… like, we're not officially exclusive or anything…."

 **Three months ago:**

 _"Annnnd… so... " the Motarkan girl tossed her prismatic hair back over her shoulder flirtatiously, pressing closer, "you're a Paladin?"_

 _"Yes," Keith answered, shifting his weight, "I'm one of the Paladins, just like the Regent said when he introduced us all."_

 _Her smile got bigger and she tipped her head down to peek up at him, giggling softly, "from, Earth, right?"_

 _"Uh-huh," he sipped the fizzy drink that looked like champagne, but tasted like chocolate milkshakes._

 _She wrapped her long, four-fingered hand around his forearm, and suddenly Lance just… appeared, shouldering between them. His arm slipped around Keith's waist "love you," he quipped, pressing a kiss to Keith's cheek. He smiled at the girl, even though his eyes were shooting daggers, "we are both Paladins, from Earth."_

 _"Oh," she slumped, "well, ummm… welcome to Motarka, thank-you so much for everything you did to help us. I should…" She drifted away, starting a conversation with a cluster of people nearby._

 _"I could have dealt with that," Keith said mildly._

 _"Probably," Lance agreed, "but you didn't have to, because I did."_

 **Now:**

"Officially? What does that even mean?" Hunk gave up on baking anytime soon and pulled up a chair to sit beside Lance. "Are you guys dating other people?"

"I don't THINK so," Lance answered, "I mean, I'm not… but we haven't really TALKED about it and set down those kind of rules, you know?"

"So, do you think KEITH is seeing anyone else?"

"What? No," he snorted, then faltered, "umm… probably not… no… maybe? No. Definitely no. I'd know. I'm pretty sure I would know."

"Right." He fought the urge to laugh, there was NO WAY Keith was seeing anyone but Lance, and it was kind of hilariously adorable that that wasn't completely obvious to his friend.

Two months ago:

"Alright, Lance… we got you…" Shiro supported the staggering younger man with a firm arm around his waist. Lance's arm was draped over Shiro's shoulder, theoretically helping to keep him upright.

"Woah," Lance cooed, "you're REALLY tall, Shiro! Hey! Where's Keith?"

"He's on his way, bud," Shiro assured him, "he had to dock Black, remember?"

"Ohhhh yeah," he dissolved into giggles, "d'ya think the Lions have NAMES and we just don't know'em? That'd be sooo funny! I feel weird… Hey! Where's Keith?"

"Here!" Keith barrelled down the hallway, skidded to a stop beside them and ducked under Lance's free arm, helping Shiro support his weight. "I'm right here, Lance. I got you."

Lance smiled at him, his expression dreamy and faraway, "hey, babe… know what?"

"What?" Keith asked, worry creasing his brow.

"Yer the best… love you… I feel weird… what happened?"

"You got hit with some kind of toxin," Shiro explained, "you need to go in the med pod."

"Ohhhh," he nodded, seriously. "Gotcha. Mmmm… I feel weird. Oh! Hey! Keith's here! Hiiiiiiiiii Keith!"

"Hi Lance," his voice was patient.

"Know what?"

"You love me?" Keith guessed.

"Mmmhmmm… yer smart… I do… I really do…"

Now:

"Yeah," Lance gave a short, determined nod, "I'm going to tell Keith. Tonight. I need everything to be perfect. Hunk, my bestest bud… think you could whip me up something tasty? Something NOT food goo?"

Hunk glanced over at the bowls and ingredients scattered across the counter. "Well, I was about to make space cupcakes… you want some of those? Or are you talking about a MEAL?"

"Something SPECIAL," Lance explained, "like… date night food. Something kind of romantic?"

"Yeah, bud… I can come up with something for you," he sighed, it was hard to say no to Lance when it was obvious that he was trying to be sweet, instead of a pain in the ass. "And you can have some of the cupcakes for desert. I got you covered."

"Thanks, Hunk! You're the best friend ever," he hugged him again, squeezing tight. "Okay-" he hopped to his feet, suddenly bursting with energy, "I gotta go. I've got, like a MILLION things to do. This has got to be PERFECT!"

 **Three weeks ago:**

 _"So… what should we DO with him?" Pidge's voice was low, well-matched to the dim light._

 _"I'm not sure- you know what's he is like if you wake him up," Hunk rubbed his chin._

 _"Yeah- last time I had to wake him up, he BIT me!"_

 _"I know- he's like, feral if you wake before he's ready!"_

 _"What's going on?" Keith stopped, seeing Lance sprawled out in an impossible position, and tangled up in the cords of the video game system. "How long has he been like this?"_

 _"An hour?" Pidge guessed with a shrug. "Maybe less? He was still playing when I left an hour and a half ago."_

 _Keith sighed, "how in the name of- doesn't matter. Okay, I'll lift him, you unwrap the cords."_

 _"Keith," Hunk said seriously, "you are a brave, brave man."_

 _Pidge unplugged the wires for the controllers from the console itself and stood at the ready while Keith very gingerly rearranged Lance's arms and legs to make it easier to pick him up. The sleeping teen murmured and mumbled, but didn't wake._

 _"One, two, three," Keith mouthed to Pidge and scooped Lance up. Pidge went to work pulling the cords free and setting them aside. Hunk carefully draped Lance's arm over Keith's shoulder._

 _"You need help getting him to his room?" he whispered._

 _"Nah," Keith shook his head, "he's not heavy. I got'em."_

 _Lance made a sleepy noise, nuzzling Keith's shoulder and sighing. Blearily he blinked up at Keith, "mmmm?"_

 _"Shhhh," Keith soothed, "just bringing you to bed. Sleep."_

 _"Mmmkay," he breathed, "luv'ya…"_

 **Now:**

"Keith!" Hunk skidded to a stop just inside the door of the training room, "buddy, you've got a problem on your hands!"

"What?" He ducked a swing from the gladiator, "end simulation!" The huge robot warrior made a whining noise and sagged as it shut down.

"I was just talking to Lance…"

"Yeah?" something that might have been worry, or panic, edged Keith's voice, "is he okay?"

"What? Oh! Oh yeah, he's fine… but Keith, man, he's planning a big romantic night to tell you he loves you… For. The. FIRST. Time."

"Huh? That doesn't make any sense! He says that all the time!"

"Keith- I don't think he's REALIZED that he says it. I think… it's just been slipping out!"

"That can't be right- he's been saying it for MONTHS."

"Keith- I'm not fucking around. He wants me to make a special meal. He said he's got a million things to do. The guy is planning a big, showboaty confession."

"But… I already KNOW. He's already SAID it!"

"Man, I know this is weird, but you have to play along," Hunk was insistent. "He's LANCE. The guy is a hopeless romantic- you know he is. But he was just in the kitchen telling me about how you guys have been secretly seeing each other and he's ready to, I quote, 'drop the l-bomb'. He's excited. He sees this as some kind of milestone. Like, a big one. We're talking one of those **'I hope you have a speech prepared'** kind of milestones!"

"You're telling me that my boyfriend of EIGHT MONTHS has been ACCIDENTALLY telling me he loves me?" Keith asked, incredulous, "and that he thinks that no one KNOWS he's my boyfriend?"

"I'm telling you he's not even sure you're officially together. He straight up told me he isn't seeing anyone, but he didn't know for sure that YOU weren't… because you'd never talked about it."

"Of course we never talked about it," Keith said, shaking his head, "who else would either of us be seeing? When would we even have a chance? We are together ALL the time!"

"I know. I know. But, that's the deal… so… tonight, when he rolls out all the stops and makes his big confession, you need to act surprised and NEVER TELL HIM that he's said it before now."

"Crap- he'll be destroyed if he realizes he stole his own thunder months ago, won't he?"

"Oh yeah… and totally embarrassed if he finds out that the whole 'lowkey, secret relationship' thing was anything but."

He groaned, "you're right. So, what do I do?"

"I dunno… just… say something like 'I know, you've already SHOWN me how you feel' or something, and then, like say it back and kiss him or whatever. But… be swoony… and maybe suggest making things official. I'll… uh… handle the others."

"Oh my god," he muttered, "how? Just… how?"

"I know, Keith, man… I know… but you love him."

Keith's eyes softened and he smiled. "Yeah. I really do. So… uh… I should go shower and stuff. I guess I've got a hot date tonight."


	21. Chapter 21- First Morning (Spook)

**Fictober18 Day 21**

 **First Morning (original work)**

 **Original fiction, Original characters (a continuation of my Fictober Day 7 story: Uncharted, Day 8 story: Anchor, Day 13 story: Soulmates, Day 16 story: Sunkissed, Day 18 story: Wound Up, and Day 19 story: I'm With The Band. This one featuring Spook in her original timeline, in the early days of her relationship with her wife, before the mission that stranded her alone in the past)**

 **(Rated teen for LGBT2SQIA+ themes)**

 **Prompt: "Impressive, truly."**

She couldn't hide her smile as she slowly surfaced from sleep. There was a small, warm body coiled around her. The smell of sex and mossy greenness filled her nose. Her body ached in all the best ways. And, the best part? Everytime she moved, even a tiny amount, those arms and legs that were wrapped around her tightened and she felt lips moving against her skin, right beside her collarbone, "no."

Just that one word. No. It said sooooo much.

No. Don't leave.

No. Stay here.

No. I'm not ready for this to end.

"Not sure if this is real," she whispered into the sheets of white hair that spread across the mattress, "if last night really happened…"

"S'real," came the muffled voice, soft and high and clear like birdsong, "definitely happened."

"How, though," she breathed, tracing his fingertips down one long, thin, elegant arm, "how is this real? How are YOU in my arms?"

There was a huff, and a noise that was close to a groan and that head that had been pillowed on her shoulder lifted. That beloved, beautifully alien face loomed in front of her. One set of eyes blinking open then scrunching closed from the brightness of the light. The second pair, positioned higher on the face, fluttered open. She smiled at the mother-of-pearl orbs, knowing that even in infrared, she could make out her facial expressions from this small distance. "Are you going to get all humble on me all of a sudden?"

"Not humble," she promised, "just… awed. You are… so beautiful… so brave… so strong... "

"So are you," she pointed out, yawning. "Just because I wasn't feeding your ego all the time didn't mean that I didn't NOTICE."

"So, what changed?" she asked, suddenly shy and reaching out to sweep some of that white hair behind her shoulder, letting her fingers brush lightly over the pearly grey skin and barely resisting the urge to trace those lacy green lines with her tongue. She already knew they tasted like sugar and dew. She already knew how silky and soft that skin was. How slow caresses made her melt and sigh and shiver.

"I almost lost you," the voice was soft. "I know you don't remember, because of the fever… but you were… it was terrifying."

"I'm fine now." Soft, soothing touches. Small reassuring kisses pressed to cheeks and foreheads.

"I know. I do… but they told us to be prepared… and then everyone started telling stories- happy memories of you… and all I had was memories of shooting you down, arguing with you, keeping you at arm's length- because I was afraid to get close. Afraid to admit that you were right, because if you were and I lost you… but there I was, about to lose you anyway… and it was so awful. Nothing could hurt worse… and I didn't even have any happy memories of us- just us."

"Fee, shhh," she cooed, "I'm fine… and we made LOTS of happy memories last night. Very happy memories, if I recall correctly."

Both sets of eyes screwed shut and her cheeks went sooty- she was blushing. Damn, that was too adorable to bear… and too appealing to let fade.

"I especially love the memories of you screaming my name… and whimpering it… and panting it… oh… and DEFINITELY the ones of you moaning it," she continued with a smirk. "I had no idea you'd be so vocal… it was **impressive, truly** … but I guess I should have expected it- I've heard you sing."

Fee muttered something in her native language, which somehow managed to sound like wind rustling in the trees and angry birds both at once.

"Stars and moons you are precious," she sighed, "I love you."

"I…. um… I love you, too," Fee replied, all irritation gone from her expression and voice. "Crap! Is that the time?"

"Ummm… yeah? I mean, I can't think of why the clock would be wrong…."

"He has a breakfast briefing scheduled for this morning. SOON! You need to go- before everyone starts showing up!"

'Everyone' consisted of both of her own fathers, Fee's foster-father-slash-roommate, and the other pilots of the elite squad that Fee was a part of. Star pilot that she was, living space was still at a premium, and so she still shared quarters with the man who'd taken her in when she'd arrived as an orphaned refugee years ago. Fee was from a more conservative culture, and she was the one who had to WORK with them, so it was clear that she wanted to keep their burgeoning relationship private from the close-knit dynamic of the squad as much as it was possible to do. As for her, she didn't particularly care- she'd made no secret of her feelings regarding Fee for over a year and her family was very open about… this kind of stuff, in general… but the last thing she wanted was to taint Fee's memory of their first night together in any way.

"Okay, okay," she laughed, "I'll grab my clothes and slink out. I'd go out the back door if standard issued quarters had such a thing."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," Fee was so flustered, suddenly crawling around the room trying to locate hastily discarded clothing from the night before. "If either of us had our own space I wouldn't do this…"

"Hey," she caught her face, dusting a sweet little kiss over Fee's lips. "I understand… and I'm still too happy for something like this to have a chance of dimming that. You love me. Everything else pales next to that. You love me, Fee… that is the ONLY thing in my reality right now. I have loved you for so long and now… you love me."

"I love you," she confirmed.

"Nothing else matters, beautiful. I promise."


End file.
